


we'd flee to other lands

by katieelle



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Angst, BDSM, CEO Tyrell, Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prostitution, elliot making tyrell soup, thats an important tag right
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-02-15 20:38:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13038978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katieelle/pseuds/katieelle
Summary: Note that the rape/non-con tag is because of the prostitution involved, and although it is technically dubcon, I wanted to be safe and tag in just in case. Everything between Tyrell and Elliot is completely consensual.Elliot is barely scraping by, turning to the dark reality of prostitution as a means to pay the bills. But he's more than that, he's going to save the world, isn't he?Enter Tyrell, the person who's supposed to be his enemy, the CEO of the conglomerate he's supposed to be taking down. Much to Elliot's surprise, Tyrell is human, just like the rest of them, and he's soon forced to choose between Tyrell and his revolution.





	1. jesus christ, that's a pretty face

**Author's Note:**

> hi !! so this fic is actually pretty dark, much darker than anything i've written before. but, what can i say, i thought of this idea and then it turned into...whatever the fuck this is. 
> 
> i also dont know shit about hacking, so sorry that parts so vague and everything i say about hacking is wrong.
> 
> anyways, hopefully someone enjoys this ??

The music from the bar resonates into the stall, booming off the walls like echoes in a cave. It’s the kind of electronic shit Elliot has grown to hate, the stuff without lyrics, just high pitched sounds and patterns played at a volume that makes his ears ache. The dim lighting does nothing to expose the grime that is likely to be covering the floor, and Elliot is grateful for that. He would rather not think about the different types of dirt he could be resting in at that very moment, from the litter tracked in from the New York City streets to old come. 

The man above him groans. He’s older, much older, probably with a wife and kids that he never wanted. His hair is going grey at the roots, but even through the dark lights, Elliot can see that it had been dyed blonde in a desperate attempt to restore his youth. “Come on, bitch, deeper,” he commands through gritted teeth, grasping at the back of Elliot’s head by his dark hair and forcing him further down. Elliot gags and tears sting at the corner of his eyes, but he doesn’t stop because he doesn’t have a choice. This is part of his paycheck, his food, his apartment, his clothes. If he’s lucky, if he’s good enough, he’ll be asked to do more for another sum of cash. 

The man moves his hand to the nape of Elliot’s neck and suddenly jolts forward, catching Elliot off guard so that his throat constricts and he chokes again. The man smirks. Elliot needs to breathe, but he can’t take in enough air from his nose as he begins to panic. He tries to pull off, but the man holds him steadily in place. Those tears that had been collecting in the corners of his eyes finally pooled over, leaving streaks down his cheeks that the man seemed to appreciate in some fucked up sadistic sort of way. He’s actively choking now, and he feels a sharp slap against the side of his face. What the fuck is this guy trying to do? Murder him with his dick? Out of instinct, his teeth clamp down. He hears a pained shriek and his customer finally pulls away, leaving Elliot gasping on the floor. 

There’s another slap on his cheek, then a hand slipping into his pocket. The man takes back the fifty bucks he paid, spits in Elliot’s general direction, but he luckily misses him altogether. “Please, wait,” Elliot chokes out quietly, his voice breaking, but the man is already gone. He can’t tell if he’s more pissed or bitter. He stands up on shaking legs and punches out at the graffiti-covered wall, just to diminish some of his anger. It doesn’t work, it only makes things worse, because now his knuckles are aching like the rest of his body. He’s sure there will be bruises there, and Darlene will ask about them, and he’ll have to make up some bullshit excuse. 

He could wander about the club until he finds someone else who’s willing to make an offer, but God, he’s so tired. And he knows he needs the money, but if he just works extra tomorrow night, he can make up for what he lost. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he’s walking out, but he doesn’t even look like Elliot anymore. There are dark circles under his eyes, as per usual, but now they are sunken in so deep his face appears almost hollow. His hair, which used to be trimmed neatly, is a mess now, with some strands longer than others and poking out of his scalp in odd directions. His sweatshirt has a new hole in it. His face is tinged red. 

He pushes his way through the crowd of dancers with his eyes to the floor. The music is loud again, and he’s tempted to cover his ears.

The bar was dark with flashes of bright lights, but Elliot soon realizes that it’s not too different outside. The night darkens the sky, but even though it’s nearly two in the morning, many businesses are still open and lights from the skyscrapers shine down to the streets. Like the club, the streets are still bustling with people. Drunks stumbling their way home, tourists trying to soak up their NYC experience as much as they can before it ends, and teens giggling wildly as they avoid police trying to bust them for breaking curfew. 

An especially chill breeze brushes against Elliot’s skin as he turns the corner and he feels goosebumps down his neck and spine. He wishes he would have worn something warmer. He heads underground to the subway and as he’s walking through the dampened corridors, he passes a young man sitting cross-legged on the cement floor playing the guitar. He couldn’t have been much older than 18 or 19, and the open guitar case for tips is nearly empty. Elliot is the only one in the area, yet the boy continues to play, making music for an audience of no one. Briefly, he wishes his passions were as strong as this stranger’s. He scrapes two extra dollars out of his sweatshirt pocket and drops it in the open case. 

There are only two other people on the train that he boards. There’s a girl wearing a suit and tie with a rather large briefcase clutched at her side. She has black hair down to her shoulders and deep red lipstick and she’s tapping away at her phone screen. Across from where he’s sitting lies another woman, this one a little older than the first, and she’s wearing what appears to be pajamas. She’s stretched out across the bench, apparently trying to fall asleep. 

Usually, Elliot likes taking the train the long way home. It gives him time to think. But, tonight, that’s the last thing he wants. He feels like shit, looks like shit, and if he dwells on the fact that he’s utterly worthless and insignificant for any longer he may not get out of bed in the morning. So as soon as the train gets to his stop, he scrambles to get off, leaving the other two passengers behind. 

The good part is his apartment isn’t too far away from the station, so he doesn’t have to freeze for much longer. He considers running the rest of the way home, but that would take way more energy than what he has. God, he can’t wait to go to sleep, to not have to worry about anything, even if it’s just for a few hours. He can’t wait to see Qwerty and Flipper again, he’s missed them all day. He wonders if they ever miss him. He doubts it. 

His apartment building looms over him, all cracked bricks and broken windows, but it’s all he can afford and that’s good enough for him. He slowly makes the trek upstairs to his room, and before he’s even opening the door, he can hear Flipper scratching at the wood. “Hey, girl,” he sighs as he opens the door and Flipper dances around his feet. He reaches down to run his fingers through her soft fur. “Did Shayla take you out enough today?” He glances around the room quickly and is glad to see that there are no accidents anywhere. One less thing he has to worry about. There are still a few pieces of food left in her bowl, so Shayla must have fed her as well. He didn’t know what he’d do without her. All Elliot has to do is drop a few flakes of fish food into Qwerty’s bowl, which he swims up to and chows on in a few seconds. Elliot grins for the first time that day. Or week. He can’t remember. 

His bed. Finally. His limbs are still aching, and falling into that shitty mattress was like falling into a cloud: it was heavenly. The day had been too long, and he was ready for it to end, even if that means being shorter on money than usual. Flipper hops onto bed and curls up beside him, halfway under the sheet with just her head poking out the top, just like a person. He had never been so grateful to fall asleep as he was in that moment. 

-

In the morning, he woke up to a knocking on his door. Without even hearing her voice, he knew it was Shayla, like clockwork. She did this every morning, she was his personal alarm clock. She did everything she could to help him, and Elliot didn’t understand why he deserved someone who cared so much about him.

“You can come in,” he calls out, rubbing his eyes as they adjust to the sunlight coming in through the window. His throat is still sore from the night before, but he pushes that thought away. He doesn’t want to think about the money he lost -- he just needs to focus on making more. The door creaks open and Shayla steps in, remnants of mascara darkening her under eyes. Flipper escapes from her blanket cave and runs to the door, jumping up at Shayla’s legs and wagging her tail. 

Shayla’s wearing an old t-shirt with a denim jacket over it and a pair of dark leggings. This is the most put together she’s looked in months. “Wake up sleeping beauty,” she says, picking up Flipper and hugging her to her chest. The dog gets sick of this pretty quickly, and soon starts to squirm until Shayla begrudgingly puts her back down. “It’s 9:30, you have, like, half an hour to get to work.” Fuck, that’s right. He had a job, a shitty one at that, but it was a job. It didn’t pay nearly enough to keep him an apartment in New York, but it was a large chunk of the total amount he made, and he’d probably be homeless if Darlene hadn’t helped him get hired. 

“You gonna take care of Flipper for me today?” he asks quietly, and she whines at the mention of her name. “I might back here around 6, but then I gotta leave again.” 

“Yes, just like almost every other day ever,” Shayla says. “I worry sometimes about how much you’re gone, but you know me. Can’t be asking too many questions. You do what you gotta do, I’ve always got time for Flipper.” 

“Thanks,” he mutters softly, but he means it. Shayla is the person who makes it possible for him to keep living in the city and working on his project. She’s the person who he has always been able to open up to about things he wouldn’t even tell Darlene. She’s the person who, even after a night of being made to feel like nothing, can make him feel something. He wants to tell her all of this, but he’s never been good with words, so instead, he continues with a louder “Seriously.”

“Don’t mention it,” she says and waves before leaving the room as quickly as she had got there. Elliot takes a deep breath and pulls himself out of bed. He has a lot to do today. Regular work, project work, then night work. It’s a cycle, and as long as he doesn’t stray from it, he’ll be fine. He’ll be fine. 

It only takes him fifteen minutes to get ready. All he has to do is shower and throw on another black t-shirt and jeans, then his sweatshirt over top. He spends a few extra minutes nearly tearing his apartment apart looking for a warmer coat, but he can’t find one anywhere. He gives up and by the time he’s finally walking out on the street, the burst of cold air hitting him like a truck, it’s 9:52. That’s eight minutes that he has to get to work, but he knows he can make it. As he’s walking, he nearly runs right into a woman carrying a cup of coffee, but that close call was avoided and he made it out of the busy street unscathed. 

He turns down an empty alleyway, a shortcut he always uses to get to work quicker. He’s approaching the rundown pizza shop when Darlene steps outside, a cigarette already between her fingers. “I thought you were going to be late again,” she calls out to him, adjusting the collar of her heavy coat. He’ll have to ask her where she got that from, it looks warm. “I didn’t get you this job for you to be late all of the time.” 

He needs this job. Cooking at a shitty pizza joint definitely wasn’t his dream, but there wasn’t much he could do when he had no college education to put on his resume and his only work experience was whoring himself out. “Sorry,” he mutters, about to step inside, but Darlene stops him. 

“Hey, what happened to your hand?” Fuck. He forgot about that. He looks down at it and sees that he was right, there are dark purple and blue bruises beginning to bloom on the tips of his knuckles and around the sides.

“It’s nothing, umm….” he stumbles over his words, trying to find an excuse on the spot. “Yeah, I, someone tried to mug me, I had to punch him.” 

“Okay, that sounds like the least Elliot thing I have ever heard you say, but whatever dude.” She takes a drag of her cigarette and leans her shoulders against the brick walls of the building. Elliot realizes now that there are tiny snowflakes falling, some of them landing in Darlene’s dark hair. “Whatever floats your boat. As soon as I’m done with this-” she pauses to twirl the cigarette between finger and thumb, “I’ll be in to serve some customers or something. Then we have more shit to do down at the arcade.” 

Elliot nods but says nothing and slips inside, pleased to see that there aren’t too many customers yet. Maybe the snow and cold weather will keep people inside. The kitchen is warm in contrast to the bitter cold of the winter air, and since there are no orders yet, he starts making some dough in preparation for the lunch rush. When he gets a ticket with an order, he follows it. When he starts running out of sauce or cheese, he finds more in the backroom. When Darlene cracks a joke about one of the customers, he laughs. Easy. 

He’ll be fine, as long as he keeps up this cycle.

-

His shift drags on slowly, but soon enough, he and Darlene are making their way to the abandoned arcade at Coney Island. It’s snowing much more heavily now, with the flakes falling to the ground in large chunks and ultimately dissipating as they hit the cement of the sidewalk. “What do we have to do today?” he asks, following Darlene down a flight of steps and in the direction of the train that would take them to the arcade the quickest. 

“Gotta fix the plan,” she states, but it’s hard to hear her over the booming sounds of the subway. “We can do better,” she adds. 

“What’s wrong with it?” Elliot asks meekly. Darlene boards the train with Elliot close behind and collapses down on the seat, stretching out her arms and legs with a yawn. 

“Seriously, dude?” she asks with a disappointed shake of her head. “It’s bullshit, there’s no way we’re going to be able to hack into E-Corp’s database if we just snap our fingers. We need to get to Allsafe first.” 

Elliot doesn’t completely understand what kind of plan she has in mind, but there’s no use in arguing with her at this point. He’ll just have to see it through, make it happen. This, this project, is the one thing in his life he genuinely enjoys doing and cares about, and he’s not about to fuck that up. He’s sure that whatever Darlene and the rest of fsociety have planned without him will be decent enough to make work. 

He’s not 100% sure of that, though, because when they make it to Coney Island after a long trip on the subway and sneak into the arcade, he realizes what a fucking a mess his team is. Trenton and Mobley are already arguing, and Romero is simply listening to them with his head in his hands. But, then again, he can’t really blame them for being a mess. After all, he is probably the biggest mess out of all of them. 

“What is going on?” he asks, and everyone turns to listen to him. Trenton crosses her arms, and Mobley starts pacing around a set of computers in frustration. “What’s the new plan?” 

“You’ll like it,” Trenton states simply, and Darlene nods at her as if to urge her to continue. The plan, whatever it is, seems to have sparked some controversy within the group. Of course, that fact alone has sparked Elliot’s interest. “It’s going to take a lot to try to get directly into the E-Corp servers, and it’s likely that it will take weeks at the very least. Darlene and I were thinking that we should first hack Allsafe, their security network. That will cause a distraction and make it easier for us to get into the E-Corp network, It’s a win-win.” Trenton finishes and huffs out a sigh, apparently very passionate about this plan. Elliot can see why -- it’s a damn good plan. 

“No, no no,” Mobley interrupts. “If we start hacking every business that gets in our way, it’ll be so much easier for them to catch us, and then our revolution will be over and we’ll be thrown in jail. It’s better to put more time and effort into the E-Corp plan, they’ll be less likely to find out who we are.” 

They both make sense, but trying to surpass the Allsafe security altogether would be nearly impossible, especially for a conglomerate as huge as E-Corp. Trenton’s plan is much more logical, and it’s the one Darlene agrees with. “Trenton’s plan makes more sense. Case closed.” 

“Hell yeah!” Darlene yells out, giving Trenton an awkward high five. 

“This is bullshit!” Mobley complains, rolling his eyes. He’ll get over it eventually, though. He has to, because this is the plan that will work. It has to work, because if it doesn’t, Elliot will be out of ideas soon. He had always dreamt of being part of something bigger, something that made him feel important, and this was it. If he, if they, pulled this off, they would be the people who saved America’s citizens from the invisible hand that they didn’t even know existed. They’d be free, and it would be thanks to them, and that is what Elliot wanted the most. 

“I don’t think we should be working on this tonight,” Elliot suggests, partly because it was true, and partly because his work for the night isn’t over. He still needs to go back to the club he frequents if he wants to be able to pay the month’s bills. “Better wait for Mobley to calm down before we try doing any of this together. I think he’s too pissed to help us right now.” 

“Looks like you got something right,” Mobley shoots back, but Elliot ignores him. He can come back tomorrow since he doesn’t work at the pizza place that day, then he’ll have plenty of time to develop a new strategy. They have a lot to do before they’ll start seeing any changes, and Elliot wants the process to go as quickly as possible. 

“I think I’m going to stay a little longer, do some more research on Allsafe,” Trenton says and sits down at one of the computers. 

“Me too, I don’t have anything else better to do, and my roommates are probably going to be banging all night,” Darlene agrees. Elliot wishes he could stay, he really does. Except he can’t, he has things that he needs to do that can’t wait any longer. 

On his way to the bar, he stops by his apartment to say hi to Flipper and Shayla. She was just returning home from a walk, and Flipper looked tired yet satisfied. Ensuring once again that Shayla doesn’t mind taking care of Flipper, but she actually enjoys it, Elliot leaves again and is on his way to the bar. He is not looking forward to this in the slightest, but at least some of the snow from earlier was starting to lie on the ground instead of melting right away. He had always liked how snow looked delicately covering anything it could, from window sills to power lines to the branches of trees in Central Park. 

He stops outside of the bar and peers inside through the glass doors. It’s crowded and Elliot sighs at the sight. Before going inside, he takes a moment to collect his thoughts. He leans up against the side of the building and just watches as people come and go. Two young boys, obviously underage but probably armed with fake IDs, step inside. An older man looks to his left and right before going in, like someone may be spying on him. A group of laughing girls is next to go in, tripping over their own feet. A middle-aged man steps out with a 20-something-year-old boy clinging to his side. 

Elliot is aware that there’s something about him that allows men to just know who he is and what he does. Maybe it’s the glint in his eyes or the way he dresses or sullen expression. He doesn’t know, but he’s never had to stand on street corners or ask strangers if he can help them with anything. They had always come to him, somehow knowing, and he was content with that. Showing up at that bar knowing what he was about to do to himself was already half of the work -- all he had to do now was order himself a drink and wait. 

He’s about to follow the crowd in, except he stops in his tracks when he feels a hand on his shoulder. He spins around, ready to tell whoever it is to fuck off so he can get to work, but he’s too surprised by the persons’ face. He can’t see many of the details because it’s so dark, but it’s a young man, which is surprising because most of his clients are much older. If this guy is even interested in what Elliot’s thinking. Fuck, he’s jumping to conclusions already. 

“Jesus Christ, that’s a pretty face,” is all he says, and he laughs with it, calmly. This is different, he notices immediately. He’s so used to customers replacing compliments with derogatory words like ‘fag’ or ‘slut’ that he’s taken aback by the phrase. He feels himself blushing, but he’s still scowling. He doesn’t know how to respond to something like this, so he stares instead, which must look pretty fucking weird. “I don’t do this often, but I can offer you a lot if you want to come with me.” 

He’s about to say yes without thinking. This would be a treat for him, because from what he can see in the shadows, this guy appears to be attractive. Plus, he’s not a complete dick. But then a taxi drives by and the headlights shine on the man’s face and Elliot almost fucking screams, which would have been pretty goddamn embarrassing. Standing right before him, asking if he can fuck him for money, is CEO of E-Corp Tyrell Wellick. He blinks a few times, half expecting him to disappear like a hallucination, but he’s still there, grinning down at him. 

His first thought is, ‘wow, this is fucking perfect.’

His second thought is, ‘wow, this could end fucking terribly.’

Tyrell must think Elliot doesn’t know who he is, because why else would the married CEO of the largest American corporation be hiring a prostitute? On one hand, this could be the perfect way for him to get information on E-Corp, information that would speed about their revolution by about ten times. The ‘I can offer you a lot’ was definitely not a lie, considering how wealthy Tyrell is. 

On the other hand, would it really be a good idea to let the face of the enemy fuck him? He could end up, well, fucked if he slipped up and Tyrell found out what he was really doing. 

There were more pros than cons that he could think of that short time, so he nods and lets Tyrell lead him away from the bar. What the fuck the CEO of E-Corp is doing hiring male prostitutes at a spot where someone could easily recognize him was beyond Elliot, but he wasn’t going to question it too much. This was the most money he would probably ever make in one night, and the idea that he could get information about E-Corp was growing more appealing to him every second. “Wanna wave over that cab?” Tyrell asks. Elliot complies, waving so that the taxi pulls to the curb and lets them in. 

“There are probably so many guys telling you how pretty you look all the time, but I really mean it,” Tyrell repeats. The taxi driver tries to ignore them. Elliot glances over to Tyrell, who is looking at him in admiration with blue eyes that the sky would envy. The more he thinks about the this, the more it registers in his mind as a bad idea. What if this was some kind of trap? It was risky, but he was nothing if he wasn’t willing to take risks. Tyrell lists off an address that Elliot doesn’t recognize, and the rest of the ride there is awkward. The CEO can’t stop smiling, like he had won at something, and as much as it was a little creepy, it also made him seem more human. He had always assumed everyone working for E-Corp was nothing more than a corporate robot designed to want nothing other than money and power. Of course, he still thinks that’s all Tyrell wants, but clearly, there’s more to him than that. 

To say the least, Elliot is surprised when the taxi stops outside of a hotel and Tyrell exits the car. “This is our stop,” he says to Elliot, smiling again. He notices now that he’s wearing a full suit, as if he had just been on his way home from work. This is such a Tyrell Wellick thing to do, he thinks. Hiring a prostitute, then taking him to a fancy hotel. It’s almost humorous. Almost. Tyrell pays the driver and adjusts his tie before striding inside and giving the receptionist a fake name, as if anyone who knew who he was wouldn’t recognize him. It seems to work though, because she hands him a key and the next thing Elliot knows is he’s alone in an elevator with his enemy.

“What’s your name?” Tyrell asks simply, pushing number four and waiting for the elevator to begin its ascent.

“Elliot,” he responds. Is this really happening? It doesn’t feel real. This could easily be a vivid hallucination or dream, but then Tyrell is kissing him and he knows it’s real. 

“Well, Elliot,” he says before going back in for another kiss. He rests his forehead against Elliot’s and lets their lips meet like they were fucking made for this. “I’m glad you decided to come with me.” The door opens then and he follows Tyrell to their room like he’s in a trance, amazed by the fact that Tyrell is really there.

The room is beautiful, definitely bigger than his apartment by a longshot. The grand windows open up to a view of the city, the kind of thing a tourist would die to take a picture of. Then there’s the bed, huge with white blankets, frilly pillows, and gold accents. “Do you take….uh….requests? There’s something specific I want you to do do,” Tyrell asks sheepishly. There’s something about the fact that he can make the CEO of E-Corp shy that Elliot appreciates more than he ever imagined he could. 

“Honestly, I’ll just do whatever you make me do,” Elliot jokes, but Tyrell doesn’t seem to think it’s very funny. In fact, he seems offended in a way. 

“I don’t want to make you do anything, Elliot,” he says sincerely. “You do want this, don’t you?”

He does. He really fucking wants this. He can’t remember the last time he had sex for a reason other than money. This time, though, the money is just an extra bonus. Along with the possibilities it opened up for his revolution, but that was a whole different story. “Yes, I do.”

“Good,” Tyrell says, removing his tie. He hands it over to Elliot, who stares at it blankly. What the fuck is he supposed to do with this? “Oh, right,” Tyrell laughs. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a stack of cash. He counts out five bills and places them on the nightstand, each one a one hundred dollar bill. Five hundred dollars. Jesus. 

“So, what do you want? You said you had a request.” Elliot did say he would do anything, but that wasn’t entirely true. There was no way he was letting anyone piss or shit on him or something like that, not for any amount of money. He still has the tie in his hand, and Tyrell looks at him like he’s supposed to already know what to do with it. 

“You know, Elliot, I have so much pressure on me. Sometimes I need to just….let someone else take control for a while.” Oh. Oh. Yes, Elliot is definitely going to enjoy this. So often he’s the one being controlled, fucked like it’s all he’s good for, by men who don’t have control over their own lives and need to take it out on someone. This is something new, something he has been craving. He’s the one in control, and Tyrell Wellick being the person to submit to him is so fucking hot, he feels like he may have a heart attack right there. 

Elliot grabs Tyrell by the collar of his shirt and pushes him until he falls backward on the bed. He quickly scrambles into place, resting his head on the pillows and stretching his arms above his head. Elliot crawls over him, straddling his waist as he uses the tie to restrain his hands. He remembers learning once that blue ties are used to symbolize power, and he thinks it’s ironic how he’s now using a blue tie to take that power away. Tyrell tests the boundaries of the knot, closes his eyes, and moans, and Elliot could come just looking at him and hearing that sound. 

Elliot doesn’t know exactly where this surge of power is coming from, but he believes it has something to do with the epitome of the top one percent of the top one percent lying beneath him, tied up and waiting to be fucked. It’s happening, this is really happening. 

He’ll be fine.

He unbuttons Tyrell’s shirt, exposing his skin, and practically tears it off of him, tossing it to the side. He starts kissing down his chest, down to the buckle of his belt, and Tyrell arches his back off of the bed. He works at the buckle next and slides the belt through its loops, considering for a moment the things he could do with that belt. He imagines Tyrell’s pale skin painted red, but he doesn’t know if that’s what he wants, so shoves the thought and the belt aside. 

“Should be lube and condoms in the nightstand drawer.” Elliot reaches over and desperately grasps at the bottle of lube and a condom. This hotel really has everything. He returns to Tyrell’s body, breathing heavily and muttering quietly for more. Elliot shoves down his dress pants and his briefs at once, and Tyrell laughs softly when he has to kick his legs around a little bit to get them off. Elliot drops a generous amount of lube onto his fingers and takes some time to allow it to warm up slightly. Then, he’s back at Tyrell’s body, rubbing his fingers over Tyrell’s hole. Tyrell lets his head sink back further into the pillows and he moans again, louder this time. 

“You’re just asking for me to gag you at this point,” Elliot threatens, although he never would. Those sounds are too pretty to stop Tyrell from making them. He pushes a finger in slowly, making Tyrell whine. He draws circles to loosen him carefully, he doesn’t want to hurt him. 

“Please,” Tyrell begs, and Elliot adds another finger. Tyrell writhes in reaction, his back lifting off the mattress. Elliot can make him do that with just the pressure of his fingers, and nothing has ever made him feel so delirious in his life. He has complete control over Tyrell, he could do anything to him. He scissors his finger and Tyrell lets out another indescribably beautiful sound, and Elliot begins to worry that he may come from those sounds alone. He’s already hard, and he hasn’t even touched his dick. He adds a third finger. Tyrell’s hard cock is lying against his chest, leaking precome onto his skin. Elliot leans down and laps it up, something he has never done before, but then again he is doing a lot of things he never thought he would be doing. “Please,” Tyrell repeats in a frustrated groan. “I’m good. Please fuck me.” 

That’s all Elliot needs to hear. He tears off his pants and considers leaving his sweatshirt on to save time, but he’s sure that would just get in the way, so he slips it off over his head as well. He pumps his hand over his cock, relieved that he’s free from the strain of his pants. He slips on the condom from before and leans down over Tyrell resting his hands on Tyrell’s hands, pinning them down as if he wasn’t powerless to begin with. He uses one hand to align himself with Tyrell’s hole, then his hand is back where it started, holding down Tyrell by his wrists. He eases himself in, and they both moan in relief. Elliot hasn’t felt this good in a long time.

Tyrell wraps his legs around Elliot’s back and tries to pull him in closer, and Elliot gets the hint. He starts to move, slowly at first. Tyrell is already a fucking mess, panting and moaning and whispering things like ‘more,’ ‘please,’ and ‘harder,’ in a broken string of syllables that Elliot doesn’t think he could ever get tired of. He is quick to comply, slamming his hips against Tyrell’s ass so that his whole body is moving with it. 

Tyrell looks incredible like this. Hands tied, blue eyes wet, lips pink and puckered. Elliot wishes he could have a picture of him like this, because he knows he’ll be thinking about this exact moment in the future, wishing he could come back to it. 

Elliot continued to snap his hips and a fast yet steady rhythm as he presses his mouth to Tyrell’s. Tyrell reciprocates the kiss with ease, and as he moans, the sounds seem to travel through Elliot’s mouth and down his body, giving him the energy to fuck Tyrell at the pace he so desperately craves. He can tell that Tyrell is ready to come because he starts to buck his hips forward against Elliot’s, trying to get any amount of friction he can. Elliot smirks, knowing fully well that he could force Tyrell to come untouched if he really wanted to. He wouldn’t, though, because he needed to come to, and with Tyrell making those beautiful noises, he didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to last. 

Elliot reaches down between their chest with one hand and starts stroking Tyrell’s cock at the same pace that he’s fucking him. He was sure that if Tyrell didn’t have his hands tied up, he’d be clutching at Elliot’s back, leaving behind red scratches that would take days to fade. Elliot nearly shudders at the thought, because, fuck, he needed that, but he knew he’d never get another chance at this again. 

Tyrell’s body shakes, and for once, he goes silent as he comes. He leaves a mess on his chest and Elliot’s chest and Elliot’s hand, but he doesn’t mind. Elliot pulls out and straddles Tyrell’s waist, slipping the condom off and stroking his own cock vehemently. When he comes, it’s with a groan and all over Tyrell’s chest, mixing with the other man’s come and pooling on his stomach. Out of some weird instinct that has been telling Elliot what to do all night, he leans down again and collects the come on his tongue. He stretches upwards and kisses Tyrell again, this time with their come staining both of their lips. It was messy and gross and Elliot will probably think about this later and wonder what the fuck got into him, but for now, it’s too good. It’s too perfect. 

“Fuck,” Tyrell breathes out finally. Elliot collapses, with his head on Tyrell’s chest, and he can hear how fast the other man’s heart is beating. He tells himself he needs to take his money and go. He tells himself he needs to get out of there as soon as possible, because this was already risky enough and he had gotten what he needed. He tells himself that he’s making a huge ass mistake, but he doesn’t listen to any of that. He’s too exhausted. 

He pulls down the covers of the bed and then yanks them up so they’re covering his and Tyrell’s bare skin. He unties the knot that had been keeping Tyrell’s arms restrained. If he has a night in a warm room and a comfortable bed with the most intriguing man he has met recently next to him, he’s going to take advantage of it, even if that man is the person who he’s supposed to hate. 

He wraps an arm around Tyrell’s chest, who whispers a barely audible, “Thank you.” 

Elliot wants to say, “You’re welcome,” but he’s already half asleep, and the feeling of his body pressed tightly against Tyrell’s is enough. 

He’ll be fine.


	2. devour me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merry fucking christmas ya'll.

Life goes on, business as usual. Except for one minor detail. 

He continues to go to work at the pizza place in the morning. He does what he has to do there to help the day go by easier. That means following his boss’ directions and making pizzas all day, but that’s alright with him. He continues thanking Shayla continuously for taking care of Flipper when he can’t, but he still tries to make time for the dog. He keeps going to the arcade and writing lines of code and testing them out and finding bugs. They’re getting closer to being able to infiltrate Allsafe’s network, he knows it. 

He still goes to the club. He still has to suck guys off on dirty bathroom floors and in secluded alleyways, but most of the time, he finds himself waiting for Tyrell to show up. And he does, nearly every night for a week after their first meeting. For three days or so, he tried to convince himself it was just some sort of Pavlov’s dog type of reaction. When he saw Tyrell standing around the corner at the club, eyes on him, still fully suited, that meant a night in a luxurious hotel room instead of a night spent in a dark alley. He told himself the way he looked forward had nothing to do with Tyrell himself. 

But that was a lie. 

Sure, the money Tyrell paid him was a nice added bonus, but he would do this shit for free. 

He never noticed it before, on the news or in articles or when he spent hours researching the company’s history, but Tyrell was fucking beautiful. Maybe he had just grown used to being with men who he found utterly repulsive and Tyrell was only beautiful in comparison to them. Or maybe he really did look that fucking amazing with his hands restrained with his own tie, his mouth stuffed and gagged with one of Elliot’s t-shirts, and his ass marked up with handprints as he was fucked roughly into the mattress. 

Or maybe Elliot just likes the control. With other clients, he was always the one on his knees, getting fucked, being told what to do. Tyrell is the total opposite, and Elliot can't fucking get enough of it. Tyrell pays Elliot to let him suck his dick. Tyrell pays Elliot to let him lose control. Tyrell pays Elliot to let him obey orders. Elliot’s life may be in absolute fucking shambles, but the one thing he does have control over is Tyrell in that damn hotel room and now his visits are morphine to Elliot, with each line, he's pulled in deeper. 

It was never meant to get to this point. It was supposed to be just once, just to see if there was any information he could get from Tyrell, that was it. But then he kept coming back to him, and what kind of person would Elliot be to turn down a night in that huge ass hotel room for a huge ass sum of money in exchange for a night spent with some married old dude in a bathroom stall? A fucking stupid one, that’s for sure. Plus, as he spent more time with Tyrell, he was more likely to slip up and release information about E-Corp. It was a win-win. 

It was never about Tyrell though. It was about the control, the power, the money, and the hack. That was it. It was never about Tyrell. 

“Do you know who I am?” Tyrell asks, pulling his shirt back over his sweaty chest. His wrists are red from where he had been struggling against the tie and he there are a few drops of come still visible around his face and in his hair. He considers telling him, but he likes the way it looks too much. It reminds him that he’s in control. 

Is Tyrell onto him? Does he somehow know that Elliot’s plan is to manipulate him into giving away information about E-Corp? Elliot’s mind starts spinning with possibilities of Tyrell realizing what he’s doing and turning him into the police, but, fuck, he has to think of something to say fast before Tyrell grows even more suspicious than he may already be. “Some businessman who pays me an unreasonable amount of money to fuck him?” Elliot asks, making his voice waiver to appear more unsure. 

He has to play dumb. And, yeah, maybe he is being a manipulative fuck, but this whole plan was manipulative from the start. What’s the point in changing that now if the damage is already done? “It’s not that unreasonable,” Tyrell responds. He’s re-tying his tie now, making sure it’s perfect. Elliot almost grins thinking of how he can use that same tie against him, keep him begging to come and struggling for friction, so desperate under Elliot’s power. 

“Is that your way of calling me a good fuck?” 

“I keep coming back to you, don’t I?” Tyrell pulls on his dress pants now. He appears to be in a hurry, which is unusual. In the past, he had always relaxed around the hotel for a few hours before leaving. Once, he even ordered the most delicious chocolate cake ever from room service for Elliot and himself. Elliot didn’t surprise himself by sticking around Tyrell for a little longer, because who turned down free cake? But, now, he’s almost in a rush to get out. Probably has some fancy ass business meeting or some shit the Elliot definitely didn’t care about, and he most certainly wasn’t disappointed that Tyrell was leaving so soon. 

Elliot quickly realizes that if he continues on like this, acting like he’s only interested in the money and not Tyrell, (which he isn't, at all) he will never gain his trust. And if Tyrell doesn’t gain his trust, he’ll never open about who he is or what he does and he’ll never give Elliot any information about E-Corp. Then this whole mission would be pointless. “Can’t you tell me your name?” Elliot asks, forcing his voice to sound less dull and cold than normal. If he starts small, he can show Tyrell that he’s worthy of trust. He doesn’t know how long it’ll take, but fuck, it’ll be worth it. 

“I wish I could, Elliot.” Tyrell sits on the edge of the bed, presumably admiring Elliot, who is currently lying mostly naked in the comfort of the softest pillows he has ever felt. 

“Why can’t you?” Elliot continues, determined for this to work. Elliot is nothing if not determined, and operation ‘manipulate Tyrell Wellick through sex and false interest’ was no exception, especially when his revolution was on the line. “I want to be able to boss you around and shit, I know you’d like that. I’d like it, too.” 

Tyrell visibly shifts at that and Elliot bites back a grin. He can imagine what Tyrell is thinking. Elliot using his name at the end of each command he barks out. ‘Get on your hands and knees, Tyrell.’ ‘Arch your back for me, Tyrell.’ ‘Don’t come unless you want to be punished, Tyrell.’ The question is, is Tyrell Wellick desperate enough to risk his entire career for the sake of a fucking kink? “It’s Tyrell.” The answer is yes. 

“I like that name, Tyrell.” This is going to work. This small step means a lot - it means Tyrell is capable of having faith in him, and if he keeps working at this, he can get Tyrell to do practically anything for him. Baby steps, though, this is his revolution. He can’t fuck it up by doing too much too soon. “But you seem to be in a hurry. Got some meeting you got to be at?” 

“I do, actually, and I can’t show up there looking like I just got plowed for the past half hour.” Elliot smirks then, looking over Tyrell’s body and considering how fucking obvious it is that he was, in fact, just plowed for the past half hour. And as much as he would love to see a group of uptight businessmen reacting to their boss walking in late to a meeting, disheveled, face still red, and come in his hair, he can’t let that happen to Tyrell. He doesn’t want Tyrell to embarrass himself in front of all of his coworkers and lose their respect, or potentially have somebody find out that he’s been having an affair with a male prostitute. He is supposed to be the enemy, but Elliot genuinely believes now that Tyrell isn’t capable of being the evil mastermind he once pictured him as. He’s simply a victim of the invisible hand, made to believe that money is power, just like everyone else. 

So he’ll spare him the risk for now. “Might wanna wipe that come off your cheek, then,” Elliot warns, and Tyrell mutters a quiet “shit” before stumbling into the bathroom to look over himself in the mirror. It was still only around 6, Elliot had run into Tyrell while he was on his way home instead of at the bar, and Tyrell hadn't seemed interested in wasting time going back to the club later. Tyrell reemerges from the bathroom, looking much more presentable, with his hair neatly in place, his shirt tucked in, and no traces of COME left on his body. “Elliot, I have a weird question,” he says, and for a few moments, Elliot’s heart sinks. 

Maybe this time Tyrell really is on to him. He's going to ask what he knows about hacking, or if he has anything against the company of E-Corp. “Uhh, what?” he asks, trying to remain calm. 

“Can I -- would it be okay if I borrowed your sweatshirt?” Elliot really needs to stop worrying himself so much, that will be the death of him. But now he's left stunned, unable to say anything, wondering that what the fuck Tyrell Wellick could possibly want with his sweatshirt. He doesn’t have to say anything, though, because Tyrell is quick to continue. “I mean, I know you don't know who I am, but I'm getting more and more paranoid that someone's going to see me leaving this hotel and figure out what I've been doing here.” Elliot is still in shock, and now that he thinks about it, he probably looks really fucking stupid with his eyes blank and his brows furrowed together. “I'll even give you my coat so you don't freeze on the way home.” 

“You'd trust me with your Prada coat?” That's the only thing Elliot can think to say, so he blurts it out, and Tyrell smiles slightly before responding. 

“If you'll trust me with your sacred black hoodie, then I guess I would.” As much as Tyrell doesn't want to get caught cheating on his wife with a prostitute, Elliot also doesn't want to get caught as the prostitute Tyrell was cheating on his wife with. He wouldn't be able to go anywhere without being asked questions on the streets or potentially getting following around, and there was no way he'd be able to go through with his revolution if that was the case. 

He gets dressed, and instead of pulling his sweatshirt over his t-shirt as usual, he wraps Tyrell’s coat around himself instead. It's a little too big, but definitely much warmer than the hoodie, which he's grateful for. As suspected, the sweatshirt is small on Tyrell, with the sleeves being too short and the fabric wrapping a little too tightly around his chest, but with the hood covering his head, he'll be unrecognizable walking around in the dark. 

“I wanna see you again soon,” Tyrell states, stepping up to Elliot and placing the palms of his hands on either side of Elliot’s face. He presses their foreheads together, and his breath tickles Elliot’s lips when he speaks. “Soon. Tomorrow night.”

“I'll meet you at the bar,” Elliot says, but Tyrell is quick to cut him off. 

“No. There’s no point in going there. Meet me here, at this hotel, around 8.” Tyrell moves his body a little closer to Elliot’s until he's kissing him, but this time it's slow and absent of biting tongues or lips left red and chapped. “I'll bring your sweatshirt back.” 

Elliot nods, and then Tyrell’s stepping back and releasing his grip on Elliot’s cheeks. This is how it is every night with Tyrell. He is the first to leave, collecting his payment off of the bedside table before heading down to the lobby, alone, on the elevator. Tyrell will wait a few minutes before leaving, never wanting to risk the chance of someone seeing the two of them leaving at the same time. So far, this method has worked. 

Elliot will admit that he feels a little empty without his sweatshirt, but Tyrell’s coat is okay. He can barely feel how cold it is as he walks home

Flipper, however, is not a big fan of the Prada coat at all. When Elliot steps into his apartment, Flipper takes one look at him and then starts barking uncontrollably. He quickly sheds the coat and leaves it on the floor, and to his satisfaction, Flipper stops barking then. She still seems curious about it, though, because she spends an unusual amount of time sniffing it and then jumping backwards like it's somehow scared her. She must smell Tyrell on it. 

“Am I losing it, Flipper?” he asks, and the dog lies down, looking up at Elliot with her head cocked to the side. “How the fuck did I end up banging Tyrell Wellick on a regular basis? And to top it all off, now we're sharing clothes, too?” Flipped whines and rests her head between her paws. That's a good enough response for Elliot. “Life is fucking strange, girl.” He brushes his fingers through her fur and takes a deep breath. Tomorrow is supposed to be the day they execute the hack. He's been working on the project on and off for the past week, whenever he's not with Tyrell or working at the pizza place. Combined with the efforts of the rest of his team, they've got a pretty solid plan worked out. Now all they have to do is run the scripts, and they’ll be in Allsafe’s network. Granted, their team is going to be doing everything they can to prevent the break from going further, but he knows fsociety is stronger. More talented. They don't stand a chance. 

The idea isn't to wipe out E-Corp’s data as soon as possible. This attack will weaken their security temporarily, though, which is what they need. Tomorrow is going to be a damn good day. Everything is falling into place. 

He smiles to himself and drops a few flakes of fish food into Qwerty’s bowl. He swims to the surface and chases down each piece until there's none left. “You know what,” he begins, “When this hack goes through, I’m going to buy you a bigger tank to celebrate.” He knows it isn't true, that it's just his imagination, but he's almost positive he sees the fish smile slightly. 

He turns on his tv and the first channel that comes up is the news. He isn't interested in seeing what the weather is going to be like or hearing about yet another shooting, it's always the same. But he's tired, and he knows this will bore him enough to put him to sleep, so he leaves it on. 

-

For the first time since his very first day on the job, Elliot finds himself excited to head down to Marcello’s Pizza. It won't be long now. He just has to make it through this shift, then he and Darlene will take the train out to the arcade, and their excitement will be unspoken, yet it will be electric between them. Shayla had some shit she had to do that she didn't explain in very much depth to Elliot, but whatever it was meant she didn't have time to take care of Flipper that day. 

That's fine. Elliot clips on her leash and takes her with him to the tiny restaurant, which Darlene is very unhappy about at first. “You can't bring a fucking dog in the kitchen with you,” she says, and Flipper whines like she understands what Darlene is saying. “If you get fired, don't come crying to me about finding you another job. Cause it ain't happening.”

Elliot nods, and Flipper looks at him with the most disappointed eyes he's ever seen on a dog. So he keeps her in the back room, out of the kitchen where she could get hurt. Cindy is back there today preparing pizza sauce and shredding cheese, and she doesn't seem to mind Flipper’s company. Everything is falling into place. Nothing could fuck this day up now, it's working out too perfectly. 

He grabs the only ticket that's on the stand and reads over it. One slice of extra cheese with a side of fries. Easy. He drops the fries in the fryer and slides a pizza out of the oven. He takes one slice of it, piles on a few extra handfuls of cheese, then slides it back in the oven to melt it. He almost slips on a puddle of grease when Darlene bursts through the door to the kitchen. 

“Oh my fucking God, Elliot, you're never going to believe who's here,” she says, eyes wide, or wider than usual at least. 

“Darlene, I don't have time for this right now. I'm going to burn the fries.” That's a lie, but honestly, he really doesn't give a shit what underground indie singer is sitting in the booth outside. At least once a week, Darlene freaks out about how some musician she loves is sitting right there, at the restaurant she works at, but it's gotten boring to Elliot. He doesn't know who any of the people are, and he's not sure why she gets so surprised at this point. This is New York City, they're surrounded by all kinds of talent. 

“No, no, look!” she demands. Elliot peeks through the window over the grill, and from there, he can clearly see Tyrell sitting by the window, sipping on a glass of coke and reading something on his phone. “It's Tyrell Wellick!”

Jesus Christ. This is just his fucking luck. “What the hell is he doing here?” 

“That's what I asked him, and he just said he passes this place everyday and finally decided to stop in.”

“Wait, you -- you fucking let him know that you know who he is?” If Tyrell finds out he knows who he is, it’s game over. He can’t let that happen. This is his revolution. “This is supposed to be the day it happens, Darlene, you can’t just -- fuck, we can’t fucking ruin this now.” 

Darlene crosses her arms and peers around the corner, checking that Tyrell is still sitting out there. “Jesus, Elliot, he’s the CEO of the biggest corporation in America. Everybody knows who he is. What the fuck has gotten into you?” 

Elliot’s fries are definitely going to burn soon, but he doesn’t care at this point. “You know what? He just -- he can’t see me, okay? He can’t see me.” Elliot backs up so he’s out of view from the window. Even if Tyrell happens to look up towards the kitchen, he won’t be able to see Elliot. 

“Calm down, dude. He’s not going to take one look at you and suddenly know that you’re planning cyber attacks on his company. Jesus.”

“No, but…” Fuck. Should he tell her? This is his sister, the person he grew up with. What would she think of him? Would she think he’s an idiot? Would she worry about him? Or would she think he’s a genius? He’s scared to find out. There is one thing that he knows for sure, though. She will help him. And, right now, he needs all of the help he can get. “We’ve been….We’ve been fucking.” 

Darlene’s face goes pale. She opens her mouth like she’s going to say something, but she doesn’t. Maybe she’s wondering if Elliot’s telling the truth, or maybe she’s just trying to process how the fuck that could have happened in this universe.”You’ve been...what? You’ve been banging the CEO of E-Corp?” Her voice is quieter now, much to Elliot’s appreciation. But that doesn’t mask the hint of something different in her tone. Shock? Disappointment? Fear? A combination of all three?

“It’s a long story,” he says, after a deep breath. How the fuck does he even begin to explain something like this? “But I know what I’m doing. He’s trusting me more and more everyday. Soon, he’ll be telling me all kinds of top secret shit about E-Corp without even realizing it.” She doesn’t seem too impressed with his plan quite yet. “Plus, he’s paying me a lot.”

Darlene’s expression changes to something of pure anger. “Jesus Christ, he’s fucking buying you? If I didn’t hate this dude enough already, he really is the fucking worst now.”

Elliot wants to cut her off, tell her that Tyrell isn’t as bad as they thought he was. He wants to tell her that he’s surprisingly kind, that he always checks to make sure Elliot is okay before they start anything, that he takes Elliot to a goddamn hotel every night. He wants to tell her all of that, and more, but then she may start to think that he’s choosing Tyrell over fsociety like some kind of fucking traitor. “No, it’s okay. I like doing this. Don’t worry about me.” 

“I can’t tell if you’re a genius or just fucking stupid,” she finally says, which is just the reaction he was expecting. “Whatever. I trust you, alright? I may not trust this plan yet, or whatever the fuck it is, but I trust you. Just don’t get too close, or you’ll fuck up this whole thing for everyone.” 

Elliot nods and he feels like a weight was lifted off of his shoulders. That’s one less thing he has to hide, and Darlene took it much better than he thought she would. 

“I’m more pissed that you never told me you’re gay,” she adds, before lightly slapping him upside the head. “Okay? Just…be ready for tonight.” Then she leaves the kitchen, the wooden door swinging behind her. He is ready for tonight. He’s been ready for this day since the first time they met up at the arcade. He grins to himself and takes the fries out of the fryer, and to his surprise, they aren’t completely burnt. Tyrell still hasn’t seen him. 

This is his revolution. It’s happening in only a few hours. 

-

When Elliot and Darlene step into the arcade, everyone else is already there. He can’t tell if they’re on edge or excited, but everyone is waiting impatiently at a computer, looking over the scripts that are displayed on the screen. “Finally,” Trenton says, rising from her seat. She squints at Flipper, who is sitting at Elliot’s feet, like she is unsure if she’s really there. “Why do you have a dog?” 

Flipper looks up at Elliot and turns her head to the side. “Shayla couldn’t take care of her today.” Trenton looks like she has a lot more questions to ask, but she just nods unsurely and remains silent. 

“So….are you sure you’re all ready to do this?” Romero asks. He’s sitting at one of the computers, spinning side to side nervously in one of the chairs with wheels.

“We’ve been at this one step in the plan for a week now, of fucking course we’re ready.” Darlene slings her bag onto the ramp of one of the skeeball machines and stretches her arms above her head. “Let’s get this fucking show on the road.” 

Elliot sits down at the fastest computer they have with Romero and Mobley on either side of him. This way, if there’s something he misses, he has two more pairs of eyes watching the screen. Trenton and Darlene are on a different computer, working as a backup to make sure everything Elliot does on his side goes through. They can also double up on attacking the servers, making it much harder for Allsafe to follow and take down the virus. 

“Trenton? Ready to send out that email?” They disguised malware as some downloadable link that any gullible worker would be quick to click on. Their bug would be quick to spread through their servers and hide in the network once the link was clicked. They just had to enforce it. 

“Done,” Trenton responded. For a few brief seconds, it’s quiet while they wait for their victim to click the link. Darlene glances around the room, at Elliot, then back to the monitor. Mobley taps his foot. The quiet is almost eerie because Elliot feels like his heartbeat is audible to everyone in the room. Maybe they can even hear his thoughts. 

Something shifts on Elliot’s screen. It’s almost unnoticeable at first, but it’s there, something within the most recent line of code was changed. “Hey,” he calls out to the rest of the room. For a moment, everyone’s attention is on him. “We’re in.” 

The quiet turns to chaos. The silence turns to the sound of frantic typing and commands being shot back and forth between the groups at the two computers. The Allsafe team must have noticed the malware infiltrating the system much sooner than they had hoped for, giving them a lot less time to make anything concrete. 

It’s like some kind of fucking cyberwar. Everything they do is counteracted, which they should’ve expected from a cybersecurity company. But Elliot is better at this than them, he knows he is. He’s been practicing this shit since he was a child, he knows all of the secrets and ways to surpass every security barrier he can think of. They don’t stand a chance, they never have. 

Elliot has so much to focus on. From what’s happening on screen, to shouts from Mobley and Romero of things he may be missing, to updates from Darlene and Trenton on what’s going on from their perspective. He has to pay attention to every little detail, every word that everyone in that room speaks, and be sure he’s typing in the right commands all at the same time. 

This is why he loves hacking. It’s the adrenaline, the thrill he receives that is unlike anything he’s ever done in the past. And the fact that what he’s doing now is part of an ultimate goal to destroy the company that has enslaved America? That makes this even better. That it’s not all for nothing, that he’s going to change the world with this, that his name will mean something. 

This is his revolution. 

By the time Allsafe catches up with them and manages to kick them off the network, it doesn’t matter anymore. One of their servers was already infected with their malware, the one server that was hidden well enough that they didn’t catch it. This is their weak spot. This is what they’ll use to get into E-Corp’s database. This is the server that will set their revolution into motion. 

It’s quiet for a while again, with everyone trying to catch their breath. He hears Trenton cracking her knuckles, and then she leans back in her computer chair. Everything that they had been working on for the past week had all come together, making this a success. And Elliot felt like he was on top of the fucking world. 

“This is it,” Darlene says, turning to face him. “We own them now.” 

“I’m fucking exhausted,” Mobley adds, shaking his head and running his hands through his hair. Even Flipper looks tired, lying across Elliot’s feet in a position that most definitely can’t be comfortable. 

“Now what?” Trenton asks. She shuts down her computer and the screen goes blank.

“I can’t think anymore right now,” Romero says, and weirdly, Elliot agrees. He feels like if he tries to think about anything other than what he just completed, his mind will give up or shut down. 

“Let’s meet here again tomorrow, same time. Then we’ll figure out our next step.” Either everyone is too tired to work or too tired to argue, because they all nod and add in their own forms of agreement. 

Elliot leaves the arcade, with Flipper by his side, knowing that the next time he’s there, they’ll be well on their way to reaching their goal. There’s a certain surrealness hanging in the cool air. Everything is normal, the way things should be. People rushing by in the streets, lingering in subway cars, or taking shelter from the cold in cafes. He’s changing the world, but he’s the only one who can see that. These people in the city have no idea what he’s planning, what he just did. But he knows. 

He stops by his apartment to drop Flipper off before heading to the hotel. He’s excited to see Tyrell tonight. There’s something about what he just accomplished at the arcade that makes him feel so fucking powerful, and his nerves are buzzing with that feeling. He’s worth something, he knows that now after today. It’s been a long time since he managed to convince himself of that fact, but now he’s sure. He’s changing the world. 

He’s changing the world. 

-

“Here’s your sweatshirt,” Tyrell says after the long trip on the elevator up to the room, and it’s now that Elliot realizes he’s forgotten Tyrell’s coat. “Did you forget my coat?” Tyrell asks before Elliot can confess. 

“Yeah,” he says quietly. 

“It’s okay, I forgive you,” Tyrell laughs, and then he’s kissing him, his lips moving fluidly against Elliot’s. Elliot is all for kissing Tyrell soft and sweet, but there’s that buzzing in his nerves, the power of knowing that he owns Allsafe and therefore owns E-Corp. He reaches a hand up to grasp at Tyrell’s hair, yanking him in closer. He bites at his bottom lip and Tyrell whines, and Elliot can feel his jeans growing tighter at that sound. 

Elliot pulls back and his eyes scan over Tyrell’s body, who already looks fucking debauched with his hair ruffled, blue eyes gleaming, and red lips puffy. He doesn’t hesitate in pushing Tyrell to his knees by his shoulders, and he hits the ground with a satisfying thud. Tyrell mouths around the heightened fabric of Elliot’s pants, an action he’s only ever actually seen in stupid porn videos, but the teasing gets to him. “Hurry the fuck up,” he commands, and Tyrell stops suddenly. 

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I’m fucking loving it.” Then Tyrell is struggling with the zipper of Elliot’s jeans for a few moments before sliding down his pants and boxers, his half-hard cock being freed. Tyrell shuffles forward and laps gently around his pink head, grinning because he knows exactly what he’s doing and exactly what he wants. He’s teasing Elliot on purpose, hoping to get a reaction out of him. 

Fuck. Elliot will never cease to be impressed by how fucking desperate Tyrell is for this. If he wants a reaction, then Elliot will give him a reaction. He grips Tyrell by the back of his head again and pulls roughly on his hair, bringing him closer. He wraps those red puffy lips around Elliot’s dick, and Elliot’s head falls back, mouth open. He can feel every movement that Tyrell makes. He can feel his tongue as he slides it along the shaft, he can feel his mouth swallow around him, he can feel his throat constricting as he tries to force himself to go deeper. 

“Come on, baby, you can do it,” Elliot encourages, and he immediately shudders at his own use of the word ‘baby.’ Tyrell seems to enjoy it, though, because he moans, and Elliot can feel that as the sound sends vibrations up his body. Tyrell says nothing, but he brings his hands up and wraps his fingers around the length that his mouth can’t reach. 

Tyrell must be getting hard. He’s rocking his hips slightly, brushing his crotch against Elliot’s shoe, desperate for some friction. The fact that he’s getting off from sucking Elliot’s dick is enough to get Elliot fully hard. Tyrell slides his lips down his length until he’s back at the head, licking up drops of precome and swallowing them eagerly. Enough of this slow shit. 

Elliot reaches his other hand around the back of Tyrell’s neck, keeping him in place as he starts to shift his hips in staggered movements, fucking his face the same way he’d fuck his ass. Tyrell has saliva leaking out of the corner of his lips, his cheeks are red, and he looks a fucking mess. Which, to be fair, is exactly the way Elliot likes to see him. When Tyrell starts to choke, he pulls out, letting him catch his breath. His lips are slick and his eyes are wet, but what’s even more attractive to Elliot is the way he pushes through and swallows down Elliot’s dick again without having to be told to. Elliot’s fucking into him again, head thrown back, but he has to stop soon. He doesn’t want to come before he even gets to fuck Tyrell, that would be a waste. 

Elliot staggers back until he’s on the bed, kicking his pants off the rest of the way along with his shoes. He pulls shirt up and over his head, tossing it to the side. Tyrell follows closely behind him, peeling off his clothes along the way until he’s kneeling, naked, on the bed in front of Elliot. “Open yourself for me, Tyrell,” he demands, and Tyrell swallows a gulp, his skin already shiny with sweat. He leans over to the drawer beside the bed and takes out the lube, covering his fingers with it before swirling one around his hole. He props himself up on his calve and one hand as he uses the other to finger himself slowly. He bites his lip and let his eyelids come close to closing, knowing he’s putting on a show for Elliot, a show that he can’t take his eyes off of. 

Elliot watches in awe as Tyrell adds another finger, rolling his hips and riding himself. Elliot reaches down to stroke his own dick in unsteady movements, biting back a moan with every sound Tyrell makes. “Come here,” Elliot says, and Tyrell drops what he’s doing, crawling up to Elliot. “Want you to ride me,” he continues, and Tyrell nods frantically. They haven’t done this yet, but seeing Tyrell riding his own fingers gave Elliot a new idea that he couldn’t pass up. Tyrell slides a condom, complimentary of the hotel, over Elliot’s dick. 

Tyrell spreads his legs across Elliot’s waist, lifting himself up slightly with one hand resting on Elliot’s shoulder. He reaches back with his other hand, using it to line Elliot’s dick up with his hole. He sinks down, and in unison, they both exhale a breath that they felt like they were holding in for hours. Once Tyrell’s ass is seated on Elliot’s hips, he pauses, keeping himself held up with his hands gripping Elliot’s shoulders. Abruptly, Elliot brings one hand up and lays a heavy slap on Tyrell’s ass. “Come on, move for me,” he says. 

Tyrell complies, slowly at first, which is understandable. Elliot finds himself intrigued by the fact that Tyrell is on top of him, moving at his own pace, yet he’s somehow still under Elliot’s control. Elliot could tell him to move faster, or stop moving, he could tell him to take his hands off Elliot’s shoulders or keep his hands at his sides. And Tyrell would do all of it. He’d do anything Elliot told him to. 

But Elliot doesn’t have to tell Tyrell to move faster, he’s already doing it on his own, bouncing at a faster speed on Elliot’s cock. Elliot loves the way Tyrell looks at this moment. His thighs must be so fucking strong, giving him the support he needs to rock his body over Elliot’s waist. His chest is pale, sheen with sweat, but defined in its own way as Tyrell moves. He loves the way he has access to Tyrell’s ass, to press him closer while he rides him, slap it when he wants Tyrell to move faster, or to run his hands over it delicately like the work of fucking art it is. 

Tyrell reaches a hand down to stroke his dick, but Elliot slaps it away, suddenly filled with a new determination to see Tyrell come untouched. Tyrell whines and arches his back, and in this new position, he must have hit that spot. His mouth opens, but nothing comes out, and his eyes close. He rocks his hips like this, so with each time he comes forward, Elliot’s dick is brushing against that spot and bringing Tyrell closer to the edge of coming undone. 

Elliot bucks his own hips forward unexpectedly, hitting that bundle of nerves unexpectedly, eliciting a moan from Tyrell’s throat that Elliot relishes in the sound of. Tyrell must be in some amount of pain, so desperate to come, but unable to touch himself just because Elliot told him not to. When Tyrell comes, he does so untouched, which is enough to make Elliot groan at the mere thought of that. He paints Elliot’s chest in white strands, and then he stops moving altogether, completely fucking undone. 

Elliot owns his company. Now he owns Tyrell. 

With that, Elliot is hit with another surge of power, and without warning, he’s forcing Tyrell off of him and flipping him over so he’s resting with his forearms on the mattress and his ass in the air. He tears off the condom and leans over him, stroking himself over Tyrell’s hole vehemently until he’s coming as well, covering Tyrell’s hole. He presses his head forward and opens his mouth over Tyrell, lapping up his own come. It’s filthy, messy, and a little disgusting, but Tyrell keeps moaning with each flick of his tongue and then he can’t stop until every drop is gone. 

Elliot falls back against the pillows, smiling to himself. There are still lines of come crossing his chest, but he doesn’t mind. Tyrell rests next to him, still trying to catch his breath. His cheeks are pink now, not as red as before, but the blush is pretty in Elliot’s eyes. “Want me to order anything? I can get that cake you liked, or something else,” Tyrell asks once he has regained the ability to speak. 

“Maybe later, I think I’m too tired to eat,” Elliot says, pulling up one of the sheets over his body as the temperature of the room sets in and he realizes he’s actually a little cold. Tyrell turns to the side and watches Elliot, crossing an arm over his upper chest and letting his other hand wrap in his hair, playing with the curls calmly. 

A loud ring interrupts the both of them, and Tyrell groans with annoyance. “Shit, I better get that,” he says, and he reluctantly flips to the side. He retrieves his blazer, which had been discarded on the floor near the bed, and takes his phone from the pocket. He answers the call, and with each word the person on the other line speaks to him, his expression sinks into something darker. “Yeah? Are you sure? How much? Can it be fixed? How can you not know?” His words are a different kind of desperate. They’re filled with worry, anxiety. 

This is not the power Elliot had felt when he completed the hack. This is just fucking sad. 

Tyrell’s voice chokes and breaks up as he schedules a meeting first thing in the morning for the next day with who he can only assume to be the head of Allsafe, Gideon Goddard. When he hangs up, he faces away from Elliot in shame, but Elliot knows he’s crying without having to see his face. “You okay?” he asks, but he already knows the answer. 

“Yeah, it’s just…I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do,” he explains. “I wish I could tell you, but I don’t think I can.”

He doesn’t have to tell him. He already knows. He’s worried his company, everything he worked for, the thing that matters the most to him, is going to be destroyed. He’s worried because his whole life could fall apart at any moment without warning, and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry, this is embarrassing,” he apologizes quickly. He turns so he’s facing Elliot, and his eyes are red around the edges, wet with tears. He tries not to avoid Elliot’s eyes, which may be for the best. Is this the cost of his revolution? Destroying people’s lives? Fucking ruining them? 

But he’s come too far to quit now, so he steels himself and steps towards Tyrell, wrapping him in a tight embrace. Tyrell rests his forehead against Elliot, and then he’s losing it, sobbing uncontrollably with his body shaking. And the whole time, there’s only one thing running through Elliot’s mind. 

He’s the one who did this to him.


	3. drain those big blue eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so ummm hi. 
> 
> i was really really uninspired with this fic and i had no time to write. so that's why i havent updated this in like 2 months. but i really like where i wanted to go with this and how many options i had and i missed writing it, so i finally found some time to write a new chapter. 
> 
> idk if anyone still cares about this lmao, but if you do, heres a new chapter with some hurt/comfort and some fluff. i'll try to update this sooner rather than later, but i dont know when ill get the chance to write again.

The next time Elliot’s at the arcade, a very different feeling swells in his stomach as he watches the rest of fsociety swarm around a single computer and bicker about their next step.

He should be offering his own plans, his own ideas on what they should do next. He knows what they should do next. He’s supposed to be spouting off the steps, convincing everyone that this will work, and it would. It would work, and soon enough, they’d be executing that same plan and taking down E-Corp with it. But instead, he continues to sit there in silence, watching on as an innocent bystander while the other members of his group try to form a coherent scheme. 

Fuck, he’s supposed to be happy right now. This is what he’d always wanted and they were getting so close to making it final, to freeing everyone from their debts. He should be more excited about this than ever, more eager to get this shit done. No, he feels like he’s floating. He feels numb. That’s wrong, he knows it, that’s not how he’s supposed to be feeling. Except he can’t bring himself to do anything about it, he can’t force himself to feel a certain way even if he tried. 

He hasn’t seen Tyrell since that night. Since he got the call and broke down in Elliot’s arms and Elliot briefly questioned if doing what he was doing right before pushing that thought aside and reminding himself that there were casualties in every revolution. One week and four days since that night. Elliot still has cash leftover from the large sums that Tyrell had paid him, but he wasn’t sure if he’d ever see Tyrell again. He picked up extra shifts at the pizza place and extra guys from the club, telling himself just in case the entire time.

“Hey, Elliot,” he hears Darlene say and then he’s coming out of his trance, fading back into the real world. Trenton, Mobley, and Romero are still arguing about something he hasn’t bothered to pay attention to, but Darlene is walking away from them and towards Elliot with a concerned scowl across her lips. “I -- I gotta ask you about something.” 

Elliot wants nothing more than to say he doesn’t want to talk or maybe even ignore her completely, but she’d never let him get away with that. He’s so exhausted and he feels as though his mind is going to burst if he tries to think anymore, like it’ll go into overdrive and short circuit. “What is it?” he says, because that’s easier than having to argue with her.

“You haven’t said anything more about the, uh, Tyrell stuff,” she begins. She must notice the way Elliot’s breathing hitches and his eyes dart away quickly because she leans in closer and makes her voice even lower. “I mean, you mentioned it, like, once. Are you still, like, doing that? Have you gotten any information from him?” 

This is the last thing he needs. Every time he tries to forget about the face of his enemy red and wet with tears, broken down, it finds a way back into his mind, etched there like a stupid tattoo. “No. I’m not doing that anymore, I mean.”

She takes a deep breath. “Did you do anything stupid? Does he know who you are?” 

“He doesn’t even know that I know who he is.” 

“Guess he’s dumber than he looks,” she chuckles, hair falling across her cheeks and her nose scrunched up. “What’s he like? Probably a total douche, right?”

And that’s where she was wrong, and where Elliot had been wrong, and where everyone else was going wrong. Tyrell was not malicious, he wasn’t some mastermind sitting in a dark room coming up with ways he can screw society over. Jesus, the man was just trying to do his job, trying to make money, just like everyone else. The difference was that he was actually succeeding. “You’d be surprised,” he says instead because he can’t tell her that he’s actually been a decent person so far or that he doesn’t treat Elliot like shit or that he doesn’t deserve to have his life ruined because of this. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

He should have known that she was going to dig deeper, trying to figure out what was really going on. He wants to hold his tongue, stop himself from letting anymore words out, but he can’t. “I mean, isn’t there some other way to do this? Do we really need to take down the whole company? Can’t we just try to  _ make them better? _ ”

She stares at him in shock, like she’s looking at a completely different person who had just transformed before her eyes. Elliot closes his eyes and relaxes his shoulders, which had been hunched over and tense. “What the hell? Are you on their fucking side or something? You let Mr. CEO fuck you and suddenly you’re team E-Corp?” 

“That’s not what I said,” he responds quietly. “I said we don’t have to ruin innocent lives over this. Tyrell isn’t evil, he doesn’t deserve to have everything he’s worked for stripped away from him.” 

“You know what, Elliot? We don’t fucking deserve that either! We worked so fucking hard putting this plan together, and as soon as we’re actually getting somewhere, you wanna start defending the leader of the opposite side? Jesus, you barely even know him!” 

She rambles on, and at some point in her speech, Elliot forgets where he’s at. He’s not hearing her anymore, just bits and pieces, but he can’t argue with what she’s saying. He knows he’s being a traitor. He knows he shouldn’t be defending someone like Tyrell after only knowing him for such a short time. He knows he’s wrong, so fucking wrong, for all of this, but for some reason, he doesn’t feel that way. He feels right, like there’s a purpose to all of this and he just doesn’t know what it is yet. 

Tyrell is gone, so really, this doesn’t matter anymore. If they manage to finish their project, he won’t have to see how it affects Tyrell. He won’t have to see how he loses everything, how he tries desperately to find solutions, grasping at thin air, only to realize that nothing he tries will save anyone and his efforts are useless. So if he doesn’t think about that happening, he can pretend it’s not. He’ll come back to the arcade, he’ll lead their revolution, and he’ll forget about Tyrell. But today is not that day. Today he has too much on his mind, there’s too much arguing piercing his ears, and there are too many bills coming up this week that he needs to pay. He needs more money. “I’m leaving,” he says, cutting Darlene off abruptly, leaving her red in the face and with a mixture of anger and disappointment swirling in her eyes.

So he steels himself, heads home, and tries to avoid thinking about anything that involves the hack, especially Tyrell. When he opens the door to his apartment, Flipper greets him as usual. She seems tired. Shayla must have taken her for an extra long walk. 

He grabs a bag of “gourmet” dog treats that he had bought with Tyrell’s money and drops a few of them on the floor for Flipper, who sniffs at them once, then twice, then abandons them completely. Dumbass dog won’t eat anything that’s healthy and Elliot grins at that, just barely.

He still has Tyrell’s jacket, the one he had borrowed a while back and continuously forgot to return. It's draped lazily over the sofa, taunting him. Without a second thought, without letting his brain remind him again of the person the coat belonged to, he slips it on over his t-shirt. It’s too cold outside, flurries of snow already beginning to paint the ground, and the fancy coat is much warmer than his regular sweatshirt. 

He’s about to leave, but right as he’s opening the door, he literally runs into Shayla who’s trying to get into his apartment while he’s trying to leave. She’s holding something in her hand, a magazine, maybe? Since when did Shayla care about the news, or read for that matter?

“Hi,” is all he can say, because she usually starts the conversations but for some reason, she’s standing still, silent. Elliot’s good at reading people, but this emotion she’s displaying is….odd. There’s an almost-scowl crossing her lips, but her eyes look sad and tired. Her eyebrows are drooping low, her hair a mass. Then again, her hair is always kind of a mess. “You need something?” 

She doesn’t answer him. Instead, she holds out her hand and passes him the magazine. When he looks at the front page, he feels like he’s going to vomit and have a heart attack and fall into a coma all at the same time. There, as large as the page will allow, a photo of him and Tyrell climbing into a taxi in front of the bar they met at is plastered on the front. Next to it, smaller, is another picture, but this time they’re standing outside of the hotel sharing a cigarette. He doesn’t even remember doing that, but there it is, clear for the world to see. 

He wants to say something to Shayla, ask questions, but he doesn’t even know where to start. How did they not notice there were paparazzi near them? Surely, Tyrell was used to that kind of thing. And how much do they know? Do they know how long this arrangement was going on? Does Tyrell know about this? Does his wife? How long before Darlene and fsociety find out? 

Still, he can’t tear his eyes away from that bright pink headline, making his blood boil and his brain feel like it’s going to collapse.  _ Tyrell Wellick: CEO Caught Cheating?  _

Fuck. Fuck. What the fuck is he supposed to do? He shouldn’t have done this in the first place. He knew from the very start how risky this was, but there he is, mind racing a million miles a minute, thinking of everything this means. Tyrell knows now that Elliot knows who he is. Tyrell may never want to see him again. Tyrell is in the midst of losing his company, and now he may be losing his wife as well. Fsociety will know soon, too. Will they even trust him? Jesus Christ. Why does he have to fuck everything up for everyone?

At the corner of the headline, there’s a small bubble saying to turn to page 12 for more information on the scandal. His fingers are numb when he starts flipping through the pages. The article is short, thank God, but it does state how long and how often they had been seeing each other, courtesy of an anonymous hotel employee. Probably the one who’s always at the front desk, the one who pretends she doesn’t know who Tyrell really is when he gives his fake name. This publisher probably paid her a fuckton of money to spill the information regarding their visits, but then again, Elliot would have done the same thing. 

There is one good thing about the photos: It’s almost impossible to tell who Elliot is. While Tyrell’s face is bright and clear, Elliot’s has been blurred out, masking his facial features. Of course, anyone who knows Elliot knows that the man in the picture is him based on his clothes and his hunch and his structure, but at least no one’s going to be knocking down his doors or stalking him to the arcade. At the very least, he thinks, their revolution is safe. 

“Shayla, where did you get this?” he asks quietly, afraid she doesn’t even hear him. He doesn’t even recognize his own voice. 

“I stopped by the gas station to pick up a bag of chips, and lo and behold, there’s your skanky ass on the front cover.” He sighs and looks away, frustrated with how fast things are moving and how dizzy he is. “What the hell is going on? How did you manage to sleep with a rich CEO? And why?” 

“You already said it. Because he’s rich.” 

Her head cocks to the side in a way that reminds him of Flipper. “Wait, he’s….he’s paying you?” 

“Oh my fucking God, Shayla,” he says in a long, exasperated breath. “I leave here almost every night and you still haven’t caught onto the fact that I’m a fucking  _ whore?”  _

She reels back like she’s been hit. “What? No--no I just thought you were going to, like, parties or something.”

“Parties?!” he half-yells. “Me? At parties?” He starts laughing. He can’t find it in him to start crying to screaming or punching walls, so instead, he’s laughing hysterically like a fucking maniac. He’s doubling over, hurting his chest, but he can’t fucking stop  _ laughing _ . He’s terrified. Of what? Well, everything, to be fair. 

He needs to find Tyrell. He needs to know if Tyrell knows yet, if he’s okay. He needs to know how he’s going to react, how this will affect E-Corp. He needs to know everything. He runs past Shayla and down the dim corridor. “Do you need me to watch Flipper?” he hears from behind him, but he doesn’t stop to answer. He’ll check the club first in hopes that Tyrell’s looking for him, too, knowing that if he is, that’s where he’ll go. 

He doesn’t have enough money in his pocket for a cab, so he jogs there instead, barely stopping even to catch his breath. It’s bitterly cold and the wind feels like it’s biting at his skin. But he keeps going, trying not to think too much because that will only slow him down. 

He sees Tyrell as soon as he sees the bar. He’s standing outside, a few steps down from the door, leaning against the wall. He’s wearing baggy sweatpants and a tattered sweatshirt with the hood up, he even has a pair of sunglasses to top it off. Anyone else would take one look and assume he was just an average broke New Yorker with crushed spirits, but Elliot knows. Elliot stops in the middle of the sidewalk when Tyrell turns his head and locks eyes with him. He ignores the stream of busy people shoving past him because Tyrell is striding towards him now, his movements careful, his eyes darting around like he’s being watched. He might be. 

“Come,” Tyrell says, keeping both his head and his voice low. He pulls him into an alley and rounds the corner, back behind a building where the narrow street is empty and they’re left alone. Elliot is taken off guard when his back is shoved against a wall and he immediately feels Tyrell’s lips soft against his own, fluid movements that are tinged with the salty taste of tears. He grabs the sides of his face with both hands when he kisses him, as if he’s not even real and he’ll dissipate into thin air if he isn’t careful. “I’m so, so fucking sorry,” he stutters. He’s been crying. Elliot knows this because he knows how his voice sounds when he’s been crying. “I should have been more careful. Now I’ve pulled you into my wreck of a life and I need you to stay away from me before I make things worse for you.” 

Speechless, Elliot tries to come up with the right response. He can’t. “No.”

“No?” Tyrell repeats. “Elliot, I really fucked up. And I know it’s stupid, but I do care about you. So I need you to please -- please --” he tries to finish, but he can’t. He’s crying again, hiding his wet face against Elliot’s shoulder. 

And the fucked up thing is that Elliot cares about him, too.

“No, Tyrell,” he says again. “Let’s talk about this back at my apartment once you’ve calmed down. I know a way there through back alleys. It’ll take longer, but no one will see us.”

The whole way there, Tyrell stumbles along, holding onto Elliot’s hand for balance and trying to hide the tears that roll down his cheeks. 

-

Elliot knows Tyrell is right. He should stay away. That would be best for everyone. But now Tyrell is lying on Elliot’s bed, covering himself with all of the blankets he owns and muttering about everything that’s gone wrong and Elliot doesn’t think he could turn him away if he wanted to. “I have nothing,” Tyrell says through a cracked sob. “My wife’s going to leave me. My company is going to fail. You only like me because I pay you to fuck me.”

Elliot hears that last part from the kitchen and spins around to look at the disheveled wreck of a CEO lying on his old mattress. “Would I be standing here making you soup in my apartment if I only liked you for the money?”

Tyrell perks up slightly, finally lifts his head up and off the pillow. “It’s not just about the money for you?” 

“I mean, it was at first. It always is, with what I do and all,” Elliot says and pauses, stirring mindlessly at the pot of soup he’s been carefully watching over for the past few minutes. “But I like being with you.” He’s not lying, he’s just leaving out some information. Leaving out the part about attempting to use him to get information on E-Corp. 

Flipper seems to like Tyrell, too. She’s curled up at his side, sleeping calmly, and Tyrell probably doesn’t even realize that he’s resting his hand in her curls of fur. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this. You don’t deserve this,” he apologizes again, for what seems like the 100th time. 

“Tyrell, stop,” Elliot says. “I know you’re scared, okay? I’m scared, too. But I’m going to help you. I promise.” It feels weird to be making a promise to help Tyrell Wellick. Especially one that he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to honor. 

“Okay,” Tyrell agrees. Shortly after that, he stops crying altogether. Elliot still has questions, but he’s afraid to ask because he’s almost certain that Tyrell will start sobbing again. He can’t remember the last time he ate soup, but it’s the only food he could find in his apartment that wasn’t expired. Chicken noodle, the kind he and Darlene used to eat when they were little. He scoops a copious amount into a paper bowl with a plastic spoon and serves it to Tyrell, who eats it in bed so desperately fast that Elliot’s afraid he’s going to spill it all over himself. 

“Thank you, Elliot,” he says through spoonfuls. Elliot’s sitting next to him, cross-legged on the bed, trying not to pay attention to his red-rimmed eyes and his blotchy face. “Really. I don’t deserve you doing all of this for me.” 

“All I did was make soup.” 

A faint smile lights up on Tyrell’s lips, and then fades almost as soon as it showed up. But it was there, Elliot saw it clearly. “Not just for that, for everything. But the soup is pretty good, too.”

When Tyrell has drained the bowl and set it aside, he lies down again and closes his eyes. Elliot lies down next to him, eyes focused on the ceiling. Elliot has never  _ cuddled _ with anyone before, even the word sounds fucking  _ horrific _ . So when Tyrell rolls over and wraps his arms around Elliot’s waist, head resting in the space between his shoulder and his neck, he doesn’t know how to respond. He also doesn’t protest it. He just lets it happen. He lets Tyrell hold onto his body like he’s going to leave in the middle of the night and he lets Tyrell whisper strings of incoherent worries against his skin. 

“Elliot, I want to pretend for a second.” It had been so quiet for so long, Elliot isn’t even aware that Tyrell is still awake when he speaks again. 

“Okay, then pretend.” 

“I want to pretend that I don’t have to worry about E-Corp. I want to pretend that we don’t have to worry about money at all. We would just get up and leave all of this behind. We’d forget about what the rest of the world thinks and we’d pretend that they didn’t even exist. Nothing would matter except for us and this dog. She would come with us, too, you know. And that’s how we’d live our lives. We would just disappear from the rest of the world, become new people. But we’d stay the same to each other. Wouldn’t that be nice?” 

It would be nice. 

Elliot realizes that, sometimes, he likes to pretend too.


	4. this is heaven and id die for it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its 12 am. send help.

The last time Elliot fell asleep next to Tyrell, he was gone in the morning. This time when he wakes up, Tyrell is still there, but now Elliot is overwhelmed by an exhausting sense of guilt. He can’t keep doing this. He can’t keep letting his emotions get the best of him. God, if only Darlene knew he was taking care of their enemy as if he was a stray dog while he’s going through a crisis. He’s fucking the whole thing up for everyone. 

His dad would be so ashamed. 

And at this point, he’s just leading Tyrell on. 

But then he looks over at the man lying next to him in bed, dark circles under his eyes telling Elliot that he barely slept all night. He’s still wearing a dirty sweatshirt and he’s pulled all of the blankets over to his side of the bed. In just a few days, he’s had everything stripped away from him -- his company, his wife, his dignity, his reputation. All he has left is Elliot, the cheap prostitute he accidentally ran into one night. And Elliot knows he can’t abandon him now, not like this when he already feels utterly worthless. He doesn’t even want to think about what Tyrell may do to himself if he turns him away. Elliot’s done enough damage already, he can’t bear the weight of doing anymore. 

“Hi,” he whispers when he sees that Tyrell is still awake. He wonders how long he was lying there like, nothing to do but listen to the threatening sound of his thoughts and watch over Elliot’s sleeping face. Tyrell turns to face him, mumbles something into Elliot’s shoulder that he can’t quite make out. Elliot has never been good with physical interactions, but there’s something in him that tells him resting his hand in Tyrell’s hair would comfort him. So he does. He brings his hand up and brushes a stray hair out of Tyrell’s face, then combs his fingers through his hair the way he would pet Flipper. It feels awkward at first, but the corners of Tyrell’s lips turn up just a little bit, so he guesses it’s working out okay. 

“Hi,” he says back. His voice is still groggy and a little unclear, but at least he’s stopped crying. 

“You feeling okay?” That’s a stupid question, Elliot thinks immediately after he asks it. Of course he’s not feeling okay, he probably feels terrified and hopeless and lost. Elliot knows what that’s like, and it doesn’t just go away like magic. It’ll take a while. Tyrell might be staying with him for as long as it takes if his wife does decide to get a divorce like the magazine had mentioned. He’ll have nowhere else to go. He can’t decide how he feels about this, because on one hand, having Tyrell as a roommate doesn’t seem so bad. He wouldn’t be so goddamn lonely all the time and Tyrell would split the rent with him. But on the other hand, he can never  _ be with  _ Tyrell for  _ real.  _ It would never work and living with him is on a whole other level of leading him on. 

Tyrell sighs and stares up at the ceiling. “Not really. Better, though, because of you. But not good.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” 

Elliot has to bite his tongue to stop himself from apologizing again. “Do you wanna….like….talk about this?” He still has some questions that he never got to talk to Tyrell about the night before. He was too busy worrying that anything he said would send him into another phase of his emotional breakdown. 

“What is there to talk about?” 

“Is it true, what they’re saying? About your wife….divorcing you?” He has to choke out the words, like it physically pains him to say it out loud. “You don’t have to tell me.” He wants to be there for Tyrell, wants to be the person he can rely on. For Elliot, whenever he was in a dark place, that person was either Shayla or Darlene. Tyrell needs someone like that, and other than Elliot, he has no one. 

“Yes,” he starts, blinking quickly and licking his lips like they’re drying out. “And, no, I don’t know where I’m going to go.”

Before Elliot can even think, before he can even process how fucked up this is and how he’s only making things worse, he’s already blurting out, “You can stay here for a while, if you want.” He’s so stupid. So fucking stupid. But when he sees the way Tyrell’s face lights up, he can’t take it back. He’s stuck with Tyrell now, and that’s on him. He tries to reassure himself that if Darlene finds out, she’ll understand because she loves him. But he isn’t so sure. 

“Really? You’d do that for me?” If Tyrell wasn’t fully awake before, he is now. 

“As long as you split the bills with me, sure.” If he has Tyrell paying for half of the costs of his apartment, he won’t have to worry about fucking random old dudes anymore, so that’s always a plus. He doesn’t know how long this will last, or how long they can go without the press finding out about their arrangement. But for now, he pushes that thought away. He’ll deal with it when the time comes. 

“I don’t want to go to work today. Everyone at E-Corp will be talking about me.”

Elliot tilts his head to the side and looks at him in confusion. “But since you’re the CEO, can’t you just….take the day off? You’re kind of your own boss.” 

“Can’t today, I’ve got a few interviews scheduled for new security analysts.”

Elliot’s always wanted to work in computer security. He’s wanted to ever since he learned what cybersecurity was. He even went to college for it, but like everything else in his life, he fucked that up, too. It started when he got addicted. Morphine. He was a fucking mess, dropped out, never went back, never got his degree. “I’ve always wanted to be a cybersecurity engineer,” he tells Tyrell. “Once, when I was around ten or eleven, I hacked into the local library. Didn’t mess around with anything, I just wanted to see if I could do it.” 

“Why didn’t you ever become one?” 

This is good. It seems to be taking Tyrell’s mind off of everything that’s going on, even if it’s just for a few minutes. “Never got my degree,” he says instead of spilling his whole life story. He doesn’t want to upset him even more.

“But you’re good at it?"

“I mean, I guess.” That’s such a lie. He’s not just good, he’s one of the best. But he worries that he may look suspicious if he overdoes it, so he keeps his mouth shut. 

Tyrell flips over on his side so he’s facing Elliot, locking eyes with him. “Come in for an interview today. Usually, I only take applicants that have a degree, but I guess it doesn’t really matter as long as you know what you’re doing.”

“Don’t give me a job just because I’m letting you stay here.”

“I’m not,” he says, and he almost laughs.  _ Almost.  _ “We run simulations with the people we’re interviewing, just to see if they’d be able to defend our networks if they were attacked. If you can’t do that, then there’s no way you’re getting hired.”

Elliot considers this for a few moments because he knows he’d get hired in an instant. He could pass every test they threw his way with flying colors. He would never have to go back to that bar again and he’d be doing something he loved. The only thing holding him back is what Darlene would say, she’d call him a traitor, again. She might not ever forgive him unless he comes up with some decent excuse as to why he’s decided to start working for the company they’re trying to take down. Fuck it. He’ll worry about that later, he can’t pass up this opportunity. “Yeah, I’ll do it. Today’s my day off at this shitty pizza place I work at, so I can come in whenever.” He doesn’t want to sound too excited, too cocky. But he can already feel his nerves buzzing. There’s just one thing. “But….those pictures. Don’t you think people will recognize me?” 

“You can’t see your face and you’re wearing a black sweatshirt and jeans. The person in the pictures could be anyone. Just wear something more….formal, to E-Corp, and no one will notice.” 

So that settles it. Elliot’s going to try to get a job at E-Corp, and there’s no turning back now. All of Tyrell’s suits are still at his house, so Elliot has to rummage around in his closet for a long time searching for something he can wear. He finally pulls out a dark blue suit and a matching tie that he bought a thrift store when he needed to do a mock business presentation for one of his college classes. It was big on him then, but on Tyrell, it’s just a little too small. It’ll have to do. 

He has a few nice shirts and pants that he bought for the few times he had landed interviews at various places, but none of them ended up working out. He looks different when he sees himself in the mirror -- much more professional and grown-up, which is kind of the point. Since he and Tyrell are going to the same place, they consider heading to E-Corp together, but they decided against it in case someone recognizes Elliot and the news that Tyrell is still seeing his dirty prostitute starts to spread. 

He waits fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes to sit around his apartment petting Flipper and wondering what the fuck he’s getting himself into. He tries to reassure himself by repeating things in his mind like  _ how could this go wrong  _ and  _ this is only going to help you.  _ But he isn’t so sure he can trust his thoughts, they’ve been getting him into a lot of trouble lately. 

He takes the subway out to the E-Corp building, a huge structure he only passes once in a while. His phone buzzes in his pocket and before he even looks at the screen, he knows who the message is from. 

_ Darlene: where the hell are you _

_ Darlene: answer me  _

He stares at the two texts, partly wishing he had just ignored them until after the interview. One less thing to worry about. He knows Darlene knows, and he also knows she won’t leave him alone until she gets some type of response. 

_ Darlene: i know you had off today dumbass so dont even try to say youre working  _

Fuck. He hastily types out a response and hopes she can forget about this until he comes up with a believable lie. 

_ Elliot: i got a job interview, about to go in. ill explain everything once its over.  _

_ Darlene: why didnt you tell me earlier??? im still pissed at you, but i feel obligated to say good luck  _

He leaves it at that, not wanting to say anything that could lead her to further questions. He slips his phone back in his pocket and glances anxiously around the subway train. He was being stupid. What if someone noticed that he never even turned in an application or a resume? Or what if someone recognized him from the pictures? He was doing something dumb and stupid again, bound to fuck things up even more. But then there’s that small, sliver of hope that maybe this is a good thing. No one will catch onto anything that makes him look suspicious and he’ll have his dream job. Darlene will be happy for him. She’ll understand. She’ll understand everything. He won’t have to worry about potentially ruining Tyrell’s life anymore. It will be fine.

Only in a perfect world. 

At his stop, he hurries off the train and down the busy corridor and reenters the city where he’s faced with the E-Corp building. Every time he sees it, he’s amazed by how massive it is, how on each floor in each room there’s someone doing a job that contributes to the health of the company. It’s both fascinating and terrifying. 

He steps inside and is immediately greeted with the weirdest and most surreal feeling. He feels like he’s in a lucid dream and none of this is really happening, but he’s watching himself step up shakily to the reception counter as busy business people rush past him carrying briefcases. The atmosphere is hazy, clouded, making him dizzy. Is he really doing this? No, he can’t. “Hello? Sir?” He snaps out of his trance when the receptionist’s sharp voice cuts through him once again, taking him off guard. How long was he standing there at the desk? He can’t remember. 

“Hi,” he finally says awkwardly. Why can’t he function like a normal fucking human being? She opens her mouth like she’s about to say something, but he cuts her off. “I’m here for an interview. Security analyst.” 

“Oh, okay great,” she says, her voice suddenly sounding cheery as she starts to type away at her keyboard. “Your name, please.” 

“Elliot Alderson.” Wait. Fuck. He doesn’t have an application, she won’t be able to find anything about his interview that doesn’t  _ really  _ exist quite yet. How the fuck was Tyrell planning for this to work out? 

“Umm….actually,” she begins, squinting her eyes at the computer screen through thick-rimmed glasses. “I don’t seem to have any interviews scheduled for an Elliot Alderson. Are you sure it was for today?” 

As if on cue, he sees Tyrell appearing from a long hallway, wearing the stupid suit he had picked out for him. There’s color coming back to his cheeks and he doesn’t look so emotionally drained, probably just because he has to put up a facade to appear untouchable by his employees. He’ll continue on with his work, acting unbothered by everything else that’s going on in his life. E-Corp  _ is  _ his life, he can’t let anything get in the way of that. Still, Elliot knows who he is outside of these walls, and that’s not something he’s going to take for granted. “Hi, Mr. Alderson,” Tyrell says, reaching out to shake his hand. Elliot takes it hesitantly but complies. “I believe your application is the one I lost, never got to enter the information in the computer, but I remember talking to you over the phone.” 

“Oh, oh yeah right. Hi, Mr. Wellick.” If the receptionist notices how obvious it is that Elliot and Tyrell are making this up on the spot, she doesn’t say anything. 

“Sorry about that, Diane. His interview won’t be in the database, but I’ll take it from here since I am the one who misplaced your information. Again, so sorry about that, been  _ so _ busy with the new quarter coming up.” Diane nods, dark hair bobbing up and down on her shoulders, but she stays silent. “Alright, Elliot, if you’ll follow me, I’d like to interview you personally since our company’s security is so important to me, especially in light of recent events.” 

He almost forgot about the Allsafe hack. The one he caused. His head hurts. 

Tyrell leads him down a polished hallway, sleek wooden floors and white walls. As they walk, Tyrell smiles and greets the different people he passes, as if he had taken on an entirely new personality from the one Elliot saw that same morning. They duck into an empty elevator and Tyrell presses the button for floor twelve, then he starts rapidly hitting the  _ close door  _ button like the faster he hits it the faster the doors will close. Once they’re alone, Tyrell turns to Elliot with a frown. “This is weird, pretending like I don’t know you. Just, whatever I say, play along. Okay?” 

Elliot nods and then the elevator stops at floor 6, where two young women wearing pantsuits step on. One of them presses for floor 16 before stepping back to the wall, keeping her eyes trained on Tyrell. He waves at them and smiles, but they simply glare in his direction. Elliot can’t help but think that if he didn’t know Tyrell, he’d be glaring at him, too. 

At their floor, they step into a room that is mostly filled with cubicles at which busy workers are focused on their computers. There are one or two conference rooms off to the side, one is already filled with a meeting that appears to be getting quite heated with the man at the head of the table making wild hand gestures. Tyrell approaches a young man busy at his cubicle, probably around Elliot’s age. “Good morning, Jonathan,” Tyrell says, causing the other man to snap out of his focus and tear his earphones out. 

“Oh, uh, good morning, Mr. Wellick,” he stutters, glancing back and forth between Tyrell and Elliot. “Do you, uh, need something?

“Yes, actually, I need you to set up Mr. Alderson here with one of the mini-pentesting simulations.”

Jonathan’s expression changes to a wide smile as he stands up and starts to shake Elliot’s hand. “Oh, congratulations, Mr. Alderson! If you’ve made it this far, that usually means Mr. Wellick likes you, so you’re probably going to be our new securi-”

“Jonathan,” Tyrell says, cutting him off. “We’re actually doing things differently this time. Elliot hasn’t had his interview yet.” Clearly, Tyrell just wants to see if Elliot knows anything about computers at all before continuing forward. For all he knows, Elliot could be lying about everything and has never even touched a computer before. Luckily for him, though, that isn’t the case.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Wellick, I guess I’m just a little confused,” Jonathan says. “Usually, you run the tests after the interview, when you’re thinking about hiring.” 

“I’m just not seeing how this helps-”

“Jesus Christ, Jonathan,” Tyrell snaps. “Just prepare the fucking test.” Jonathan immediately sits back down and starts typing at his keyboard in a hurry. “Now, Mr. Alderson, as I’m sure you’re already aware, pentesting a system can take multiple days for a thorough analysis of the security. The test we’re running is something similar to that, but since it’s made to test your security abilities and not the overall defenses of the network, it doesn’t take nearly as long. Basically, your job is to defend the network from Jonathan’s  _ attack,”  _ he speaks quickly, like he's given this speech a million times already, and Elliot can barely follow his words. Either way, it sounds pretty easy to pass, especially for him, and Elliot starts to wonder how much Tyrell really knows about the security of his own company. If anything, Tyrell’s not helping him, he’s helping Tyrell.

Tyrell motions for Elliot to sit at the empty cubicle across from Jonathan. Right now, he has access to every tool that would make it possible for him to erase E-Corp’s data. All of the information he needs. Darlene would be shitting herself. 

“Alright, Mr. Wellick, I think I’m ready to run the program. Whenever you and Mr. Alderson are ready.” 

“Go ahead.” 

As expected, the task is easy. Easier than what Elliot expected. It doesn’t take him long at all to decipher where the “virus” is coming from, where the breach in the code is, and how to fix it. Their security system is weak as fuck which is quite concerning considering that this is the largest conglomerate in the world. If Elliot and the rest of fsociety had known how easy it would have been to break into their systems, they would’ve done it weeks ago. They were spending so much time preparing for an attack that could be done in a quarter of the time they were expecting. Maybe that’s a good thing. 

When Elliot catches on to the virus, kicks it out of the system, and patches up the server with even more secure defenses, Jonathan and Tyrell both look at him astounded. Elliot doesn’t understand why. After all, what he did was simple, anyone who knew anything about computer security could have done it. Tyrell whispers something to Jonathan, and suddenly there’s another fake rupture breaking through. This one is a bit more difficult to follow, but Elliot manages it just as well as the last one. Jonathan and Tyrell look at him like he’s a ghost. 

“Elliot, your ability to control our networks is….astounding, to say the least,” Tyrell finally says like he’s out of breath. “You’ll still have to do an interview with the CTO and myself, but you should keep your hopes high.”

Right. That was the easy part. An interview with just Tyrell would have been fine, but what if the CTO asks him about stuff he can’t quite answer? His education? His past job experience? He’s not like Tyrell, he’s not good at coming up with believable lies on the spot and retaining confidence while saying them. All he can do is hope that Tyrell has some type of plan to keep Elliot from completely embarrassing himself. 

The door to the conference room that Elliot had noticed earlier opens and out steps the man that had been yelling and dramatically waving his arms around. He looks incredibly stressed out and he steps off to the side and gets a cup of water from the cooler. When Tyrell looks up from Elliot’s work on the computer screen and notices him, he immediately calls him over. “Elliot, this is our CTO, Michael Watts.” Oh, Jesus Christ. This has to be a fucking joke. The man looks like still owns a fucking Blackberry. “Michael, this is Elliot. He’s one of our applicants for the security analyst position.” 

“Hmm, I don’t remember an Elliot….” he trails off. 

“From what we’ve seen, he’s incredible at what he does. Right, Jonathan?” Jonathan, seemingly having forgotten where he was for a few moments, looks up when he hears Tyrell and nods in agreement. 

“We haven’t done an interview with him yet, have we?”

“No, no, you were busy with a meeting, but I wanted to get started with the process awhile since we have a lot more interviews scheduled later. 

“So….was he not scheduled already?” Elliot has barely met this Michael guy and he’s already pissing him the fuck off. 

“No, Michael, I misplaced his application and resume. Luckily, I recovered his phone number from one of our email conversations and told him he could come in for his interview before the other ones we have scheduled.”

“Couldn’t you have just asked him to email you his resume again?” 

“You know what, Michael? I don’t have time for this. Let’s just start the damn interview because Elliot is clearly a very talented person.” 

Michael sighs in defeat, knowing it’s no use to continue an argument with the CEO. He’ll always get his way. They hold the interview in the other conference room on that floor -- smaller, but with a table that’s just a big. It’s weird having three people sitting at a table meant for a dozen, it makes Elliot feel like they can hear his thoughts. He shakes their hands again, making a meaningful attempt to be professional when he takes Michael’s hand. He’s the one he still has to impress. 

“So, Elliot, can I call you Elliot?” Michael asks, but he doesn’t give him time to respond before he continues. “Okay, great. I haven’t seen your application or even your resume, so as I’m sure you’ll understand, I’m going to have a lot of questions for you.” 

Fuck, of course. Elliot feels that his hands are starting to sweat, but putting them on his lap under the table would make him look untrustworthy, so he forces himself to keep them on the table. “Sounds good.” Tyrell smiles at him from across the table, a reassuring look in his eyes. 

“First of all, I need to know your experience with computer science. Your education, work history, all of that. Here at E-Corp, we only hire the best of the best.” 

Elliot really hopes they can’t actually hear his thoughts, because right now, he’s thinking about punching Michael in the fucking face. But he answers his question truthfully, explaining how he’d always been interested in computers. He even went as far to include the library story he had mentioned to Tyrell. He doesn’t say he’s a college dropout, hoping to God he doesn’t ask about it. 

“Well, obviously, you have a lot of passion. Can you tell me about your education and your actual experience  _ working  _ with computers? That is the question I asked, after all.”

God dammit. “Actually, I, uh--”

Before he can continue and fuck everything up, Tyrell cuts in for him. “Elliot attended NYU, where he studied cybersecurity.” He’s good. It’s not a lie, he just happened to leave out the part about dropping out. Luckily Michael is a fucking dumbass and doesn’t catch on. 

“Really? That’s where I went as well!” Elliot smiles, but it’s directed more towards Tyrell, a silent thank you. “Alright, and your work experience?”

“I’m currently working at a pizza place, I needed something to keep me steady while I looked for a job in technology. I was very excited when I heard E-Corp was hiring.”

“Usually, we only hire applicants who already have experience in this field, but if what Tyrell says is true, then I think your help here is something we all could benefit from.” Understatement of the fucking year. “How do you think you could help us here? How can you contribute to our company’s goals?” 

After seeing how shitty their security system is, it’s not hard for Elliot to list off multiple things he could do to improve it. Michael and Tyrell both listen intently, genuinely interested in his ideas. Good. 

The rest of the interview is relatively normal. Michael asks most of the questions, still suspicious, but Tyrell chimes in every once in a while. Many of the questions are the same questions any company would ask, like his strengths and weaknesses, how he works with others, and where he sees himself in five years. Then sometimes Michael will occasionally throw in a question about coding or computers in general, which isn’t a problem for Elliot. He knows just as much as Michael does, probably even more. 

“It’s been very great meeting you,” Michael says at the conclusion of the interview. “We’ll be in touch.” 

That’s code for ‘you’ve basically been hired, but we can’t tell you that yet just in case.’ He doesn’t know if he should feel guilty, or happy for himself for once in his fucking life. This is what he’s always wanted, but something still feels wrong. Betrayal. He’s betraying Darlene, fsociety, everything they worked towards and believed in. 

But whatever. Some things just can’t work out perfectly. 

As he’s walking out, Tyrell follows him, pulling him to the side. “You did great. You should have told me you were so good at this, I had no idea.” 

“Are you sure you’re not just hiring me because I’m letting you stay at my apartment and this is your weird over-the-top way of thanking me?”

“I’m going to hire you because you’re the best programmer I’ve ever met and we need increased security here now more than ever.” 

“You basically lied to your CTO for me.”

“Because I knew Watts would never hire you if he wasn’t sure you were made for this.” 

Elliot sighs. That settles it. He hears his phone buzz in his pocket again and stares down at the screen. 

_ Darlene: you done with that interview yet?? its been a while, still need to talk to you _

_ Elliot: meet me at the coney island beach in an hour, by the park dad used to take us to _

What the fuck is he going to tell her? That in one day, he’s somehow managed to get a job at E-Corp because he’s been fucking the CEO? He’ll have to tell her everything, the whole, honest truth. It’s the only way that makes sense, he can’t keep lying about everything that happens in his life. He just needs Darlene to bear with him while he figures his shit out, and she will. She always will. “Hey, Tyrell, I have to go. I’ll see you later, back at my place, right?” 

“Yeah. After I’m done here, I’m going to stop by my house to talk to Joanna. About the….well, you know. And pick up some of my things.” 

He wishes he could kiss Tyrell right now, just quickly, before he leaves. He can’t, so he settles for a forced smile and an awkward wave as he turns around and heads to the elevator. Maybe, maybe someday, he’ll be able to kiss Tyrell whenever the fuck he wants. 

-

Unsurprisingly, the park by the beach is empty when he arrives. It’s an eerie sight, almost ghostly. He remembers the colors of bright blue, yellow, and red paint popping off of the monkey bars and slides, but now they’re dulled down and the paint is chipping in some places. Everything is washed out with a shade of grey matching the clouds that hang over the beach. It’s not completely empty, though. Darlene is slowly rocking back and forth on one of the swings, scrolling at something on her phone. 

“Hey,” Elliot says, sitting down on the swing next to hers. He kicks around at the mulch covering the ground, digging a little hole with his heel, focusing on anything but her gaze boring into him. “What did you want to talk about?”

She doesn’t even ask about the interview. How it went or where it was or if he got the job. Instead, she shoves her phone in his face, the screen displaying an article he’s becoming too familiar with. The one about him and Tyrell, complete with the pictures and everything. Will these stupid fucking ‘news’ companies ever get tired of ruining people’s lives and careers for profit? He doubts it. “You told me you stopped doing this, dickwad.” Her voice is cold, colder than the air around them which is already pretty fucking cold. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, handing her the phone back. He can’t stand to look at that article for any second longer. “Darlene, I’m….I’m scared.” 

“Scared of what?” There’s something comforting about the sounds of waves crashing nearby. 

“That you’re going to hate me.” It comes out with a laugh, a nervous laugh that causes a look of concern to wash over his sister’s face. Even in the dead of winter, when the sun is invisible behind thick layers of clouds, she’s still wearing those stupid fucking heart sunglasses. 

She lets out a disappointed breath that shows up like a puff of smoke on her lips. “I could never hate you,” she says. She plants her feet solidly on the ground to stop herself from moving. “I know I was harsh on you before, but please tell me what’s going on. I’m getting worried about you.” 

“I said I stopped seeing Tyrell because I did stop seeing him, for a while at least,” he begins. “I stopped seeing him after the Allsafe hack. I was with him when he found out about it, you know. And I know I used to be dead set on doing anything for our  _ revolution,  _ or whatever the fuck it is, but when he found out he was just so fucking…. _ broken.  _ And I knew I caused that.” 

“But why did you care?” she asks. She doesn’t have the same venom to her tone. She’s quieter, more relaxed. “I mean, wasn’t he just….buying you?”

“He wasn’t like anyone else. He cared about me, and then I fucked that up.”

“So then you stopped seeing him?”

“I didn’t want to. Sure, I felt like shit about the hack, but I missed him. And that’s stupid, because I barely knew him. Fuck, I  _ still _ barely know him. But I missed being with him, talking to him. And of course, I missed the room service, all the delicious food he bought me.” This makes Darlene laugh lightly, so maybe things aren’t all bad. 

“So when did you start seeing him again?”

“Just yesterday, actually. After I heard about the news. He’s going to stay with me for a while, until he sorts out the divorce and shit.” 

Darlene nods as she listens, absorbing the information. “Are you happy?” It’s been a long ass time since she asked him that. He knows know that when she asks about his happiness, she’s taking it dead seriously. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been happy, Darlene,” he answers honestly. “And I’m really fucking stressed out right now. But I’m happier, I guess.”

“That’s good.” They both go silent for a while, listening to the sounds of the ocean. He was always afraid of the ocean as a kid, mostly because he didn’t like the fact that he couldn’t see what was under the water. There could be crabs that would pinch him or jellyfish that would sting him and he wouldn’t have any way to protect himself. So he always sat on the beach and watched, playing in the sand or occasionally putting his feet in the shallowest parts of the water. He always liked finding cool shells. “What about your interview?”

Shit. He almost forgot about that. “See, here’s the thing,” he begins. “Tyrell maybe sort of got me a job in security at E-Corp.” 

Her head snaps to the side in an instant. “You-- you what? You got a job at E-Corp?” Elliot nods, scared to say anything else. “Jesus, I can’t tell if you’re crazy or a genius.”

She sounds surprised, definitely shocked, but not exactly angry. He half-expected her to jump off the swing and start yelling in his face about how he was such a shitty person, a traitor. “You’re not mad?” 

“Mad? No. I’m a bit confused, but not mad.” She uses her feet to spin the swing around, then lets it unwind in the other direction. They used to do that as kids, they would have competitions to see who could get the swing to spin the fastest. “Why would I be mad?” 

“You were pissed off when you found out about Tyrell. I thought working at E-Corp would definitely be crossing the line.”

“Elliot, fsociety is important to me, but not more important than you. I want what’s best for you, and if that means working at E-Corp, then so be it. Besides, you working there gives us a huge advantage in the hack we’ve been planning. Since I’m so amazing, I also got the Dark Army on our side, they want to help us with this.”

“No,” he says, before she can get any further or come up with any other bright ideas. “Don’t you get it? I care about Tyrell and this job, I’m not going to ruin his life and mine over this. Our plan sucks, anyways, all it’s going to do is cause a financial collapse. Tell the Dark Army to fuck off, I don’t trust them. We can do this ourselves.” 

“But what other way is there? We have a huge opportunity, Elliot.”

“I’m not on their side, if that’s what you’re thinking. I still want to stop E-Corp from fucking everyone over, but I want to think of a better way to do it. Something that’s not going to make things worse for everyone, including the people we’re trying to help. It’ll take me a while, but I’m going to come up with something. For now, fsociety is on hold.” 

The world seems to stop spinning for a few minutes as Darlene pauses to take in everything he’s just said. She processes his words, turning them over in her head and thinking hard about what to say next, “Okay,” she says. “I trust you. I trust you to figure this out.” 

He’ll take a few days off. He won’t worry about what scheme fsociety is planning next, he won’t worry about disappointing Darlene. He’ll go to work at E-Corp, he’ll come home to Tyrell. It may not last, in fact, he knows it won’t last, but for now, he’s going to let himself enjoy these few weeks of peace. 

-

That night, Elliot fucks Tyrell for the first time since the Allsafe hack. This time, though, is different. Tyrell isn’t paying him for this. This isn’t rough and filthy like the times before. This is Elliot’s  _ thank you  _ and  _ I’m sorry _ , kisses on Tyrell’s soft skin instead of bruises. Elliot lies him on his back and moves slowly, deliberately, each twist of his body having an effect on Tyrell that shows in the quiet gasps that lift off his lips. 

This is Elliot being careful, caressing Tyrell in any way he can. He relishes in the stutters of Tyrell’s hips when he moves in a certain way, the twitch of his muscles. He wants to make this perfect for him, because everything in his life is going to shit and this is his only release. Each time Tyrell moans his name is different than the last, it stays in Elliot’s mind and he listens to it on repeat. It’s his favorite song stuck in his head. 

This is Elliot closing his eyes and telling Tyrell who beautiful he is when they come together. He’s not used to those words coming out of his mouth, but Tyrell seems to appreciate the praise, so he will continue to do it. They’re both breathless, exhausted, and have so much on their minds but talking is hard so they prefer to forget about everything and lie down together. Elliot watches Tyrell fall asleep, watches his breathing slow until it’s calm and watches his eyelashes flutter innocently against his cheeks. 

This is Elliot being happy.

-

Elliot quits his job at the pizza place. After a few weeks of working at E-Corp, he’s starting to fall back into a routine. Good. That’s just what he needs to get his thoughts in order. 

Sometimes, he’ll see Tyrell while he’s at work. They work in completely different departments, so it’s rare, but it’s always memorable when it does happen. They glance at each other with knowing looks and Elliot has to try to focus on his work instead of Tyrell’s gaze. No one has caught on yet, not even during the period of time when they purposely went to the same bathroom at the same time, just to talk to each other. They stopped doing that when they hadn’t realized someone was in a stall and they spoke freely. Luckily, they hadn’t said anything that was too telling, but it was too close of a call. 

Sometimes, Elliot will bring Tyrell lunch up to his office when he’s swarmed with work and can’t find the time to leave to get food. He always appreciates it and thanks him a million times when they’re both at home, but at E-Corp, he has to act indifferent. 

He’s still learning, figuring things out as he goes, but things are good. For once, things are good for him.

-

One night, Elliot and Tyrell were up late watching movies, stuck in that alternate reality somewhere between asleep and awake. Elliot couldn’t remember what was happening in the movie, but Tyrell seemed to be enjoying it. Or maybe he was just enjoying having Flipper curled up in his lap and Elliot resting against his shoulder.

“Hey, Elliot,” Tyrell asks, looking over at him with his blue eyes heavy and tired. He speaks softly, close to a whisper but not quite. “You’re not, like, fucking anyone else are you?” 

Elliot squints him, not quite sure if he was hearing right. “Who else would I be fucking?” he laughs, playfully shoving at Tyrell’s side. 

“No one, I guess, I was just wondering….” he trails off, hesitant about finishing his statement. “Does that make us….boyfriends?” 

It takes every bit of strength Elliot has to not laugh at him. “Is Tyrell Wellick, CEO of E-Corp, asking me to be his boyfriend?” 

“Shut up,” Tyrell grins and brings his focus back to the movie that’s playing. But he’s not wrong. Elliot hasn’t fucked anyone else since Tyrell started living with him, and neither has Tyrell. They sleep together, eat together, joke around with each other. Fuck. Whether Elliot is ready to accept it or not, Tyrell is, in fact, his boyfriend. He decides in a split second that he is ready to accept it. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “We’re boyfriends.”

-

It’s been a while since Elliot has spoken to Darlene about anything regarding hacking. But she’s getting impatient, keeps saying he’s forgetting about fsociety and they need to go off hiatus soon if they want to get anything done. So when he receives a message from her saying that she needs to talk to him about something urgent, he’s not surprised. 

They decide to meet at the pizza place Darlene still works at and Elliot promises to bring him home a slide of extra cheese. Elliot still doesn’t know how he’s going to tell her that he’s not ready to execute another hack, but her orders a slice of pepperoni with a side of fries and hopes she won’t be too upset with his lack of involvement in their plan. 

She looks concerned, he notices. More concerned than usual, like something awful has happened and she’s trying to figure out the best way to deliver the bad news. She sighs before she starts talking, taking a deep breath to prepare herself. “Elliot, I’m so sorry about this.”

“What’s going on?” 

“Remember how I said I got the Dark Army on our side?” He remembers, he remembers clearly. He brushed it off at the time, thinking it was unimportant, but the thought is still there. He didn’t like that group, he’d heard horror stories of the way the leaders treated the rest of their members. 

“Darlene, what did you do?” 

“I had to give them information about everyone in fsociety for them to work with us, so I did. It turns out they’ve been basically stalking us through our computer activity.” That alone is fucking awful and Elliot already feels sick to his stomach, but there’s something more to it. Darlene is holding something back. “They know you work at E-Corp, Elliot, and they aren’t ready to back out of their plan. They’ve become, like, fucking obsessed with this destroying E-Corp thing.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Elliot can feel his heart racing, he can feel his brain glitching out. He sees in slow motion, hears in slow motion. “They’re going to contact you soon. They’re going to want you to attack their servers from the inside, and you have to do it. They’re fucking brutal, they’ll kill you if you don’t do it.”

And to think things were going so well. He knew, he fucking knew things were going to crash and burn at some point, he just hadn’t expected it to be so soon with such heavy consequences attached to it. He doesn’t let Darlene say another word, doesn’t let himself say another word. He storms out of the restaurant, but he doesn’t know where he’s going or what he’s doing. Everything is blurry.

He has to either help the Dark Army ruin Tyrell’s life and the lives of many others, or get himself killed.

The last thought that passes through his mind before he passes out in the middle of the street is that he forgot to bring home a slice of extra cheese for Tyrell. 


End file.
